Fantasy World of Gea: The Greatest Adventure [IC] [CLOSED]

[EdwardDewey98]

• Player Turn •​

While the cultists had their vigorous zeal and the power of the Chort, the present members of the company kept pushing them back valiantly. Gawain lead the fight, casting a freezing spell upon the cultists that were encroaching him. (1d10 = 3 | Failure.) Gawain casted his spell sucesfully but something went wrong, while his Mana flows strong in his body, the druidic magic casted by Sera and the mere presense of the Chort and Grunde was draining the magical essense in the air. He watched his spell turn into what he could describe as a light gale instead of a powerful freezing spell. "Your little slime friend and the Tuatha are absorbing too much Mana." said the voice of Edgar in the back of his head. "Try a magical missile next time, it uses your own Mana instead." He said in a rather condescending tone, almost as if Gawain was a magic student like Syllannan.

With his spell being a failure, Gawain watched as a cultist charged at him with one of those strange wicked blades, he shouted some heretical gibberish before attempting to strike the sorcerer down. However, Gawain watched as the soul he had shackled to the form of Wraith had disobeyed his orders of attacking the Imp. Instead, it returned to its master to protect him. Perhaps due to sheer instinct, Gawain watched as the wailing wraith charged at the cultist (1d10 = 8 | Success! | 1 damage.) (Cultist HP: 16/25) Gawain watched with morbid fascination as the wraith's incorporeal form started to engulf the cultist. The man started to shout desperately as he dropped his weapon, twitching uncontrollably, Gawain could hear the sound of cracking bone twisting flesh as the cultist's eyes glow bright blue under his ragged hood. The cultist screamed for mercy and upon seeing this cruelty, the human constable that was near Gawain wacked the dying cultist with her billyclub, killing him. "B-bloody Hel, don't do that ya bloody monster!" she shouted while giving Gawain a disgusted look. Still, his new creation had managed to kill something, but had to rest to regain a semi-corporeal form again. Gawain's Wraith is temporarily unavailable.

Meanwhile, near the fight with the Chort, Sentry had enough of this creatures attempts to intimidate her, or that's what she thinks it's trying to do. One never knows with demons. She lifted her heavy sword and charged towards the demons, swing it with full force. (1d10+1 = 7 | Success! | 2 damage.) (Chort HP: 13/25) The Chort did not attempt to block the attack as Sentry attacked him, the warrioress shouted as her blade made impact with the creatures torso, the demons rib cage did an excellent job at stopping her blade from cleaving right through the creature, she even wondered if she had done any damage at all as the creature did not express any pain, but she knew she did damage as she watched the creature's wound was bleeding profusely, dripping dark blood on the ground beneath them. The wound was regenerating, but at a much slower pace than the one she made previously.

Next in the fight against the Chort, Gsera was still protected by the summoned roots and was now trying to use her Druidic powers against the vile demon leading these people. Using the language of nature, she started to gather the attention of various insects in the area, primarily of flies, fruit flies, mosquitoes and bees. Not the most dangerous of insects but they could certainly distract the creature. She watched as the horde of insects started to fly above her, catching the attention of everyone around her, such magics were not a common sight and was shocking to witness, specially for the constables. With a thunderous shout, the druid ordered the insect swarm to distract the Chort. She watched as the insects swarmed the creature, the flies clogged its eyes, the mosquitoes bit its hardened skin while the bees sacrificed themselves, injecting their venom into the demons flesh before dying. But then, she watched in horror as the Chort licked the flies off its eyes before swallowing them whole, the mosquitoes fell to the ground, convulsing and dying. (Chort's are immune to nearly all negative effects or statuses.) "Í̷̲s̸̯̈ ̴͈͛t̸͇̕h̴̡͘a̸̭̽t̵̺͠ ̶͙̅à̴̫l̸̳̉l̸̗̀ ̶̥́y̵̯̿o̴̯͘u̵̧͒ ̵̯̋g̴̘̉o̵̧̅ṱ̵̆,̵̜̓ ̷̜́c̷͙͗ḩ̵̈́i̵͈͒ļ̷̅d̴̥͋ ̸̝̀ő̵̯f̷̳̌ ̴̨͑G̸̓ͅȃ̷̞i̸̲͒a̵̮̒?̴̛̩" It said in a strange language that was painful to hear for most, but Gsera knew what it said.

As Sera stared at the demon while being covered by heavy roots, Kastalli jumped into the fray despite her somewhat weakened state. Seeing their current situation, the bard had the brilliant idea of using her music, and the Mana that flows with it, to affect the enemy cultists. With a deep breath, the half-Raksasha swinged her bell to make sharp, ear piercing sound. A discomfort for her companion and allies but a deafening sound for some of the cultists. (Dissonance: When striking a sharp tune with her bell, the intended target are put into a state of confusion.) (1d10 = 10 | 10 Cultists are temporarily stunned, giving them a temporal -2 points to the next attack roll.) Nobody really understands how Mana is used in music and dance or how Bards are so efficient at using it in their art without having trained in magic, Kastalli was no exception, she swinged her bell several times, the ear-piercing sound sent various cultists to their knees as they covered their ears, she had managed to stun most of the cultists! "Amazing performance, Kastalli!" Shouted Alberto as he parried the attack of a conscious cultist.

After that performance, it was time for Syll joined the battle effort and deal with these bastards by using the mace end in his axe. (1d10+2 = 6 | Success! | 2 damage.) (Cultist HP: 14/25) He charged towards the few conscious cultists, he swinged his attacks to the nearest but the female cultist blocked several of his strikes, he then kicked her in the chest before swing his mace, hitting her on the side of the head, due to the lack of armor and powerful strike, Syll heard a loud crunch as his mace hit the cultists head. She then fell to the ground motionless. The other cultist then charged Syll, lifting his wicked blade high up to swing it down on the Hobálfar, but Syll was faster than the cultist, evading the upcoming strike before swinging his weapon back at the cultist, delivering a strong blow to the head and knocking the cultist unconscious. "Good job lad!" Shouted Alberto as the cultists began to realize that the odds were stacking against them.

"Master, what do we do?!" shouted a panicking cultist as he attempted to help those stunned by Kastalli's magic. "Keep fighting, we need their souls, Nyarlaexedum needs souls!" shouted another cultist. "Give them Hel, lads!" said the Sheriff in response. Using the opportunity to push the enemy back, Grunde attempted to cast that powerful gust of wind again. (1d10-1 = 3 | Failure!) Sadly, just as Gawain was unable to cast his spell, the sentient slime was unable to gather enough ambient Mana essence. Luckily, they knew that Cécilia and the rest were getting closer.

While a bit confused by his visions and its meaning, Calocis was ready to lend some aid to the woman involved in his vision. Using his theological knowledge as cleric of dark deities, he began to chant some incantations. Asking for a blessing of Shadows from Arzhang, Sibzu or Gecadre, but most importantly, Bhenulli the Shadow Queen. (1d10+2 = 10 | Critical Success!) His chants started to become louder and louder as he made communion with his dark deities. The cultists recognized some of the words he spoke, as Dokkálfar uses several words of "Demon Speech". Enough for the Chort to turn his gaze at Cal. The clerics eyes were now pitch black as dark shadows surrounded him, boosting his abilities even further. However, he was not able to use the full potential of this Godly boon, as the streets of Waterham are very well lit, and even if he casted it from the darkness of an alleyway, he wasn't able to summon the dark servants of Bhenulli. (Calocis' spells and actions gain +2 bonus if cast from shadow. This bonus is doubled at night, or while in total darkness.)

Alberto watched as the Cleric's dark aura grew around him. He was still trying to remember if they had hired an individual with such powers before but he couldn't remember. Still, he seemed to be helping and stood close to Kastalli, so he decided to trust the Dokkálfar. "Looks like your minions keep falling, you vile creature!" spat Alberto as he turned around to face the Chort, but of course, the demon was unimpressed and continued to give Alberto an uncanny smile. "Do your worst then, liar knight." It said in a surprisingly clear tone before charging at the knight, in retailation, Ser Alberto trusted his spear forth, aiming to the Chorts neck. (1d10 = 8 | Success! | 2 Damage.) (Chort HP: 11/25) Despite the fact the rampaging demon approached Alberto with deadly intentions, the knight was able to perform a masterful thrust to the demons neck. The Chort made a few steps backwards, removing the spears blade from its new deep wound. "I'll not let you hurt anyone under my protection!" shouted Alberto as the Chort eyed him. "...I know your Sins... but do your friends? know of them?" Alberto didn't respond, he just raised his shield and prepared for another strike.

• Enemy Turn •


• Cultists of Nyarlaexedum •
Cultists: 14/25 HP • Special Ability: Unnerving Fervor, for each downed enemy, the cultists gain 1+ bonus to their attack roll. This bonus is cancelled when 50% of the cultists are dead.
Imps: 5/10 HP • Special Ability: Avaricious Hunger, Imp's can use a turn to mark an enemy and in the next turn they'll be able to attack twice against said enemy.
Chort: 11/20 HP • Special Ability: Tool of War, they receive a natural +2 bonus points to their attack roll. Chorts are completely immune towards invasive status effects.​

With most of their members dizzy or somewhat unconscious, the remaining four that were capable of moving looked at one another before letting out a zealous shout as they charged towards Calocis, a female cultist shouted "TRAITOR!" before swinging a rusted blade against the cleric. (1d10-2 = 6 | Success | 2 Damage.) (Calocis HP: 7/9) Calocis felt the cold iron cut through his thick leather clothing and into his flesh, making a deep cut on his left arm, still, he had the protection of the Queen of Shadows and was otherwise not intimidated by the cultists. Based on their clothing, they worship the Great Dark One with savage zealousness instead of studying the Dark One's rebellious nature with theological interests. Disgusting. Meanwhile, the surviving Imp looked about the battlefield with a single thing in mind, try kill someone and feed from their flesh. After a few seconds, it's eyes locked with Syll. (Avaricious Hunger, Imp's can use a turn to mark an enemy and in the next turn they'll be able to attack twice against said enemy. Syll is now marked.)

The Chort had sustained various grievous injuries by now. From a strategic standpoint, the demon knew that if reinforcements didn't come soon, this mission would be over soon. Regardless of its analysis over the situation, it had one task at hand it was going to perform it to the best of its abilities. It looked at Sentry, hidden underneath her stone carapace with Alberto standing next to her. Sera on the other hand was alone, protected by roots but alone, but the closest to the little dragon lady was an annoying little pest, the Sheriff. Indiferent to the Hobs as a whole, the Chort understood that if they took care of these pests, it'll be easier for them to take care of the bigger targets. It charged past Sentry and Alberto and attempted to kick the Sheriff. (1d10+2 = 8 | Success! | 2 Damage.) (Sheriff HP: 3/5) Gsera watched as the Sheriff was kicked with full force by the Chort, sending the small woman flying against a wall. The Sheriff then fell to the ground, taking a deep breath before spatting some blood. "T-tsk... f-fuck off ya bloody mongrel!" She shouted as she pulled out her flintlock pistol.

• Allied Turn •​

• Constables of Waterham •
The Sheriff: 5/5 HP • Special Ability: Callous Defender, the Sheriff does an extra +1 bonus damage against enemies that downed/incapacitated/killed an ally.
Constables Bolby & Sandra: 7/7 HP​

The Sheriff slowly got back up, gun in hand and ready to fire upon the creature that wounded her. (1d10+2 = 10 | Critical Success! | 4 Damage.) (Chort HP: 6/25) The party watched as the Sheriff took the shot, the bullet making a sizeable hole right on the Chort's left lung. The creature did not flinch, but it was now twitching and dripping blood. "Gonna put yer fookin' head on a plate, mate!" said the Sheriff bitterly as she threw her pistol away, lifting her fists to scrap with the demon if need be.

Meanwhile, right after Calocis was cut by the cultists, the Dokkálfar watched as the woman who struck him received a strong blow to the head by the human constable. Both Bolby and Sandra started to push the cultists surrounding Cal and Kastalli. (1d10 = 6 | Success! | 2 Damage.) (Cultist HP: 12/25) Both constables fought bravely, as Sandra continued to strike the cultist that had attacked Cal, eventually knocking her out with her bill club, Bolby on the other hand had managed to kill a cultist by striking them on the kneecap with their shield before bashing their shield against their skulls repeteadly. "Bloody zealots! Always worship the Big Mother!" said Sandra as the remaining two cultists backed away.

​

But there were no longer just two cultists, Gawain could feel it with his power, the corrupted but unmistakably human essence marching towards them. In a matter of second and rather unexpectedly, thirteen more cultists came running down the street. "No signs of Birkenhead, Acolyte!" shouted a cultist towards one of the cultists. "Who cares about that Hob?! We have bigger problems here!" She said while pointing at the enemy and the dying Chort. "Jean-Claude! You know what to do!" shouted the lady Acolyte at a male cultist, who turned around and ran away from the scene as fast as they could. Two of the newly arrived cultists then charged towards Sentry, weapons ready to strike her down. She parried one of the attacker with her sword while Alberto blocked an upcoming strike heading to her side.

"DIE UNBELIEVER!" Shouted the cultist as they lifted their sword again, ready to attack Sentry. But before they could do so, Sentry watched as the cultist's head popped in a fountain of gore and viscera. A surprised Petrocles stood in front of her now, looking at his bloodied mace and the cultist he just killed. The other cultist that had attacked Sentry looked in utter shock at his dead comrade before being knocked out unconscious by Korzhev. "W-we... *gasp* ...c-came as... f-fast as we could!" shouted Cécilia as Petro, Korzhev and Abasi got into combat positions. The Party is complete and can fight together again. The Constable that led them there and Paulin soon joined the other constables in their fight against the cultists. The Constables gain 3 more HP (10/10).

As the scene became more chaotic, Cécilia noticed the Grunde moving about on the ground and snatched them as fast as they could without getting stabbed by a cultist. "H-here!" she shouted as she squeezed both Grunde's between her palms. Grunde's magical powers are no longer limited. However, things were still not done. Ten new cultists join the the surviving ones (22/25). "We are all together now! And I'm sure Ser Waylond will bring even more reinforcements soon enough!" Shouted Alberto as he approached the cultist. "These worshipers of Hel deserve nothing but the death they so desperately crave for! They abandoned decency in a pursuit for dark power, do not forget that... and if they want Hel, we will give them Hel! CHARGE TOGETHER MY FRIENDS! FIGHT AS ONE!" He said while pointing his spear at the enemy.

 

[joshuadim]

Gsera's call for aid from the insects had worked and brought about a swarm to hinder the Chort's advance, and it seemed to have worked as the insects stung, bit and crawled all over the demon... until she quickly realized in horror that it had no effect as they simply died or were gobbled up by the monster like it had been nothing. And then came its taunt that she was the only recipient of that nearly caused her to completely panic again. H-how could it not work? she thought as her mind raced and her heart thundered in her chest, What can I do!? The chort then closed the distance which made her flinch in preparation of an attack, but realized that the blow went to the sheriff instead who was flung back by the sheer force of the impact. She didn't want this, for any of this to have happened. She didn't want someone else getting hurt because of her, she didn't want to fight... but she had no choice in this scenario.

It was likely that the Chort would turn its attention to her next and so she turned herself to face the demon in front of her, blood trickling down her face from the blow she had received on her head earlier. It was here she had to make her stand for if she could not protect herself, how could she hope to protect her friends? The sight of the sheriff being in visible pain made her feel, for the first time in a long time, nothing but anger as she bared her teeth at the Chort: "Hi fen ni ahraan di fahdon." she spoke in the harsh tongue of dragons, before pointing a lone finger to the skies above. She recalled the magic that had been taught to her by the Fir Bolg of the Eonach Coillite and the technique to summon it: to be able to call upon the fury of the storm down upon an enemy. Though she never had to use it before against someone else, this was now the time to do so.

The skies crackled and the clouds directly above the ddraig began to gather and swirl with intensity before she lowered her finger straight at the chort and snarled: "Dar los dii suleyk." she spoke before letting loose the fury of the storm onto the demonic being.

 

[Roda the Red]

Syll delivered a powerful and deadly blow to the first cultist, even if he had turned to the least lethal side of his weapon, his attack was fueled by wrath, the deep resentment he had for the cult of Nyarlaexedum and their knack for corrupting the lives of the decent folk. Another cultist tried to attack him on the back but he was too slow, the elf easily dodged the attack and retaliated with another swing of his own. Syll stood in place, not minding the sweat that ran down his face. The adrenaline of battle was keeping him at optimal performance, and then he noticed that the second imp looked at him intensely, its sickening grin never growing dimmer even at the sight of its fallen allies.

"So it is a fight that you want, you foul fiend? then by all means, allow me to grant you that deathwish!"

Syll flipped his weapon once again and concentrated, the rune chiselled into the hammer end started glowing in a bright lavender color, he then rushed to the imp. Once he was in proper range he swung his axe, but just as the swing started, the back of his weapon exploded in a lavender burst of magic, the force of the explosion adding to the raw strength of the attack, making it considerably more powerful.

Syllannan uses Runic Cleave on the Imp

 

[Breadman]

The infernal bastard just refused to die and gloat, but Sentry refused to listen to him. Before she could prepare for another strike, the enemy cultists made their move against her and Alberto. The attacker didn't make it as his head was turned to mush by Petrocles. The barbarian let out a cheer at the sight of their party now joining the fray. The battle was not going the creature's way. Spurred further by the knight's commands, she prepared for another strike at the demon.

 

[Dmaster]

Gawain cursed beneath his breath as his spell fizzled out due to a lack of available mana to draw from, the sheet of ice he created quickly evaporating into a puddle before he could focus its shape into deadly spikes. A magic missile is not going to do any good against a Chort, Edgar. he replied in his head, suddenly shuffling to his feet as one of the deranged cultists charged at him. Reacting as quick as he can, he began to back step yet almost tripped from his center of gravity being off. Fortunately his wraith came to his aid to pick up the slack, dispatching the cultist in a most agonizing manner.

When the constable openly criticized him and his minion he gave a light shrug. "Tormented spirits are hard to control it seems. I wanted it to go for the Imp." the undead mage explained. "Still, I am thankful for its intervention through defiance."

Chaos continued to rage around him as the battlefield was populated with more reinforcements on both sides, cultists filling in the ranks of their dead while more constables were drawn to the commotion. With the addition of more bodies on their side to fight the rabble, Gawain knew that his talents were better spent on dealing with the greatest threat on the field. Alberto gave a thunderous war cry and the mage began to stride forward, spreading his arms to his sides as they began to twitch and ignite with purple and blue flames. They traveled and coated his arms as he kept walking, focusing his intentions on the Chort yet again. "I have grown tired of listening to you and your horrible language, creature." Gawain spat, gesturing with raised fingers while quickly crossing his arms just to swipe his hands through the air.

Beneath the demon a circle of those arcane flames began to rage, and overhead an enormous boulder coated in those scalding licks of magic began to descend from the heavens upon the monster! Not affording any more mistakes caused by lack of mana, the wizard was using his own essence once more to cast the spell!

Special Rule: Catalytic Casting​

 

[FloweryMuffin]

The fight had been raging on for quite some time, since by the time their party made it to the scene, several cultists were already dead, their bodies scattered on the pavement. There was the demon whom the little Sheriff and the constables had managed to wound quite a bit. There were also enemy reinforcements on the way, which the frogman immediately directed his attention to.

Once the two cultists that were about to attack Sentry were taken care of, Korzhev raised his hand in a brief greeting to hers and also as a sign of his understanding of Alberto’s words. Fight together with the company he will and fight for them he will. He swiftly turned towards the approaching cultists, preparing his staff once again, but this time, to cast another of his curses. He quickly got to work, shifting his staff to hold it with both of his hands, chanting a prayer to the patron.

With it he hoped to freeze the approaching enemies in place, their blood to freeze within their veins to dry up, enough for the more physically gifted of their company to finish them off for good. He continued to picture it in his mind, a morbid view of a slowly darkening leg as the sensation fades abruptly fades away.

Far too absorbed in his task, Korzhev continues to chant slowly in prayer, awaiting for his one and only god to hear.

 

[Elenion Aura]

Cal hissed as the deranged cultist’s blade bit into the flesh of his arm. He staggered back, clutching his wound with his good hand, fearful that another blow was soon to come. Savages. He cursed them and their banal understanding of the Gods they professed to serve. They were unworthy to call themselves True Believers. Unworthy to behold His dark gifts. And yet they had the gall to call him traitor? To mark him as a heretic? Fools. Dead fools, the lot of them. He released his wounded arm, his hand now stained with his own dark blood.

Before he could counter, however, help found him in the form of two strangers. One cultist fell, then the other. For a moment Cal winced, expecting one or both of them to turn their weapons on him. When they didn’t, he took a breath to steady his mind… Under different circumstances, these two would likely be his enemies. And yet, here and now, they fought by his side. Ineffable. Even so, they would not hear words of gratitude pass his lips.

The battlefield had grown, with new combatants arriving to and fro. And yet there was no denying the creature that occupied its epicenter… The Chort—the devil-beast whose gaze had found Cal briefly even amidst the chaos, chilling the blood in his veins… Wounded though it may be, Cal knew the Chort still presented a far greater threat by its presence alone than any one cultist. It had to be eliminated.

And, as the Dark Ones willed, it seemed that Cal was not alone in reaching this conclusion. Wild magic swirled around the creature, a storm of fire and lightning which crackled with the potential to decimate it utterly… But the Servants of the Shadow Lords ought never be underestimated. At once, Cal knew his next move. He flung out his arms, wincing as pain lanced up his wounded arm like a shard of ice, fingers clawing the air.

“Sluden d'asrogg. Kus nuij tarthe!”

This gambit, to end the Chort once and for all, could not fail. It would not. To that end, Cal beseeched the Twilit God for the power to shackle the Chort in fetters of Unlight, stripping it of any magical or unholy protections that would otherwise impede the dual spells from banishing the filth of it from this corporeal plane.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Petrocoles did not waiver after slaying the first cultist. While he had been startled to run into them, a single swing with his hammer was all that was needed to put them down. They had finally caught up to their friends - and what a battlefield it was. Corpses littered the street and the air was thick with the skin-crawling sensation of arcane and holy magic crackling back and forth. The demonic Chort filled his vision as he sighted the dark creature, and his instinct told him to charge the foul beast and hit it with all his strength. Indeed, a charging bull with a hammer could put down even a strong oak. He'd occasionally joined the younger minotavurs in such ridiculous games to show off their strength, though as children, none of them could truly put down a tree except shake some branches.

There was too much magic around the Chort. He could not safely attack them without getting in the way of their spellcasters, and while he did not want to harm himself, he also did not wish to put the burden of harming a friendly onto the shoulders of his friends. Tucking his head low, Petro hefted his hammer and focused on the nearest rampaging cultists.

His muscles tensed as he reaffirmed his grip on the hammer, and he charged ahead at some of the cultists with the intention of smashing them all into lifeless dolls.

 

[Auda]

Grunde watched as their spell flickered out of existence, barely forming a soft breeze. Now is not the time to mess up. Luckily, the other members of the company arrived soon after, carrying the other part of the slime. Grunde felt the pull of wanting to be whole again, and quickly made their way towards Cécilia. It was a little disorienting at first but Grunde quickly regained focus on the battlefield with more than enough mana in their disposal.

Their party may be reunited but it appeared that more cultists joined the fight as well. The situation quickly escalated, with both groups crowding the area. Everywhere Grunde looked, someone was fighting something. The slime directed their focus towards the cultist, their sheer number can be overwhelm the rest of the party if not taken care of. Though with the help of Kastalli's tune, most of them were incapacitated making them an easy target to hit.

Grunde placed their hands on the ground and focused on the distracted cultists, careful to not hit Petrocoles with a stray spell. The slime willed flames beneath the cultists to bust forth, engulfing them in fire.

 

[Infab]

Devereaux's night had been a rather uneventful one after the grand feast of the leading party. He stuck to entertaining, as he usually did, as there were not enough chairs for everyone to sit at the table. Especially with the two new arrivals of Malthara and Cassandra. An interesting pair! And he certainly wasn't going to barge in and interrupt while the others spoke of important topics. This vile 'Red Cap' creature needed to be caught, and it seemed that they were planning accordingly. Some of the female members of the group were planning a girl's night out. Fancy! And the later sight of Gawain and his strange wraith follower was certainly interesting. Perhaps someone managed to upset the undead necromancer enough for him to turn them into a wraith? Devereaux was across the tavern when they had made their entrance and spoke with the others, and he hadn't heard much of their conversation over activity around him. None of the group seemed to need Devereaux's assistance, so the harlequin continued his rounds around the tavern. Entertaining with his lute and singing tunes to please the patrons.

But now, he spent his evening sitting on the edge of a human-sized corner table, adjusting the strings of his lute. It seemed a bit out of tune during some of the songs he had played earlier in the evening. And that just wouldn't do! Out of tune instruments were the bane of entertainers and musicians! He adjusted the tension in each string, and gently plucked them till he was satisfied with their sound, before moving on to the next. And eventually, he was finished. "Marvelous!~" he said to himself, strumming the strings for a moment before setting it beside him on the table. Now... what to do? Explore Waterham a bit? Despite having been through Waterham a few times in the past, he never genuinely experienced the nightlife of the city.

But soon, he heard the bells. A rare thing indeed for the city, as they were only used during emergencies. It certainly grabbed his attention, and his curiosity. Just as much as that individual earlier when he first met Abasi. He did wonder where they went, but that was a thought for another time. "Things have certainly grown more interesting by the second around here!" he said to himself as he slid off the table. He moved over to another shorter table nearby, where he had laid his other personal items down, and gathered them up. His bow and arrows were the most important at the moment. As a young hob walked by, he glanced over his shoulder briefly. "Young one, be a dear and hold on to my lute. If you would be so kind, of course! I'll return for it later!~" he said, before holding the instrument out to the hob child.

As soon as the boy took it, Devereaux spun about. And out of the tavern he darted, remarkably quickly. Heading straight for the sounds of battle on the other side of the city as they reached his ears. Perhaps he could find some...elevation along the way? One must always hold the high ground when engaging at range!

 

[Beann]

Performing her disorienting melody, Kastalli’s tail puffed up slightly with pride at the sight of her success. However, now was not the time to pat herself on the back as one of the cultists managed to stabilize themselves and run straight for her! Wait a second - as she gripped her spear tightly she realized she was not the intended target but the Dokkálfar who had closed her wounds earlier. Kastalli twisted her body, wanting to react quickly to defend the man that had kindly helped her when she was bleeding out before. Unfortunately, the sudden movement was too much for her current injuries as she winced in pain, bringing a hand to her lower torso. The split hesitation was enough to leave her new ally undefended as she watched one of the cultists swing a blade at his arm. Luckily for the two of them, they had plenty of other allies to back them up as two of the constables rushed in to fight off the cultists surrounding them.

“Are you alright?” Kastalli breathed heavily as she looked at the Dokkálfar in concern. However, it seemed he was far from finished as she watched him retaliate with a spell of his own. This display inspired her, especially with the arrival of more cultists, she would continue fighting even with her the pain she was experiencing. Holding her spear tightly, she charged at a nearby cultist, thrusting her weapon forth.

 

[Woffy]

Like many times before before abasi started dancing wildly between the cultists his moves confusing and sometimes entrancing some of them as he used the momentum to slash and stab all around him with his curved dagger he seemed to ignore any slashes that cut open his skin and continued his dance of blades not targeting a single oponent but moving between them hitting and "running" never stopping for a moment , he knew that to stop dancing would mean grave injury or death , he always knew that.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

​

Together at last, the party was inspired by Ser Alberto to defeat these demonic pawns alongside the local constables. All around them, the curious eyes of the local Hobs centered on the party from the safety of their homes, griffin riders were circling the skies, watching the situation as it was slowly reaching its inevitable climax. "Don't give 'em a blood break!" shouted the Sheriff at her compatriots and her unlikely companions. "Make 'em all pay!" she said as her constables exchanged blows with the cultist reinforcements. The cultists were starting to panic, they knew what was going to happen, the company and the constables were going to triumph against the odds, but they cannot be captured, they must fight for the Dark God. "Aghuz dak terek nur, nyer gex af Nyarlaexedum!" shouted one of the high ranking cultists before charging the party.

"So it is a fight that you want, you foul fiend? then by all means, allow me to grant you that deathwish!"

The demon simply smiled at Syllannan only because it knew no other expression. "I'll feast on your flesh and soul, mortal!" it shouted between wicked cackling before charging towards Syll, its claws ready to tear through the flesh of the young Hobalfar. But the inexperienced mage was ready to end this once and for all and using his own knowledge of weapon and rune enchanting, he lunged forth against the demon as his weapons glowed with the power of raw runic magic. (1d10+2 = 7 | Success! | 5 damage.) (Imp HP: 0) Avoiding the upcoming strikes from the imp, Syll swung the mace end of his weapon on the demon, hitting it right on its head, the force of the explosion was so powerful the Imps head exploded in a mess of dark blood and demonic viscera. "Bloody Hel lad, yer a demon slayer!" shouted constable Sandra as Syll watched the corpse of his second imp kill slowly melt away, leaving only a wretched and still pumping Demonic Heart.

"T-the Imps are dead! They are d-d-dead!" shouted panicking male cultist, before getting hit on the face by a Vodyanoy's tribal staff. "W-what the Hel? Y-you stupid frog creature!" he said as he rubbed his nose. But Korzhev didn't care for whatever he was saying, the Vodyanoy shaman started to silently pray to the great frogs sitting in the clouds, forever drunk with the finest drinks made by the human deity Pavel, but his worshiping was centered on the greatest of all celestial frogs, Xägibulla, the fat frog of the sky, the father of all Vodyanoys and, in their own folklore, consort of Night-Skin Mother, Gaia. As the old shaman prayed for the Greatest Frog's blessing, the cultist he had hit a moment ago was slowly approaching him with his wicked blade drawn with the intention to kill Korzhev in the name of his evil demonic God, but before the cultist could approach the shaman, Korzhev spreads his arms to the night sky, his eyed glowed bright as he inflated his vocal sac, croaking as the various holes and cracks in his wooden staff began to glow. (1d10+2 = 7 | Success! | 10 cultists stuck in place.) The cultist did not care for the Vodyanoy's strange magic and he tried to approach him again, but as he lifted his right foot he began to feel a strange sensation on both his legs, and he wasn't the only one, a few other cultists looked around confused, moaning in pain as they felt a strong pain on their legs, when the cultists lift his pants he let out a pained gasp, they were red and inflamed! his veins looked engorged and about to burst! Several cultists were now unable to move, all thanks to Korzhev's hex.

And just in time. "G-Grunde! W-what are you doing!" said Cècilia as the slime began to use its magic. Cècilia watched as Grunde's powers started to manifest underneath some of the cultists. (1d10+2 = 8 | Success! | 5 Damage.) (Cultist HP: 15/20) The scholar watched in both awe and a bit of shock as flames emerged from the ground, engulfing five of the afflicted cultists, including the one that wanted to stab Korzhev. "Goddess gracious!" She said before petting the slime. "That was a-amazing Grunde!" she said in genuine support for her friend and to ensure that the slime will not take these killings in a bad way, after all, these were not morally questionable bandits but genuinely evil people. But as Cècilia petted her friend, a cultist jumped on them holding a large axe. "MAY THE DARK ONE FEED ON Y-" he shouted before being pushed away by a tremendous force, Petrocles.

Cècilia and Grunde stood behind the Minotavur as he faced the cultists that were slowly gathering their senses after Kastalli's cursed ringing. "You! beastman! You owe your whole existence to Nyarlaexedum!" Shouted a lady cultist as she and her friend approached Petrocles, but the Minotavur didn't respond, like the stalwart young adventurer he is, he lifted his mace and prepared himself for combat, the two lady cultists looked at each other before charging toward Petro, swinging their blades wildly and not giving the Minotavur warrior enough time to block or evade all of their attacks and as a result, Petro flinched when he felt their blade made a cut on his left arm, but it wasn't deep or severe, nothing a good mug of milk and a night sleep won't heal. He looked at the lady cultists as they gloated over their minor success at wounding him, but they ceased to laugh once he charged at them at full speed. (1d10 = 6 | Success! | 2 Damage.) (Cultist HP: 13/20) Petro let out a shout as his mace impacted with one of the cultists right on her chest, killing her instantly. When he tries to attack the other lady cultist, a male cultist jumped from the shadows to stab Petro with a dagger but the Minotavur quickly reacted, swinging his mace right on the cultists side, also killing them instantly by the sheer impact of the attack.

"You've chosen your fate then, beastman!" shouted the lady cultist that had cut him before trying to stab Petrocles, but before she could harm the Minotavur. (1d10+2 = 5 | Success | 4 Damage.) (Cultist HP: 9/20) Petro watched as an arrow struck her on the head, killing her instantly. Two other cultists around the battlefield then fell to the ground, arrows sticking out of their bodies. Everyone looked up to one of the building to see a slender and feminine figure standing on top of it, it was Devereaux! Who gave everyone a theatrical bow before shooting another arrow, killing a cultist that was sneaking upon the constables. "B-bloody bullseyes!" shouted constable Bolby as Devereaux used a roof tile like sliding board to jump right into the fray. "Gaia be praised! I am happy to see Devy!" shouted Alberto.

But the joy that Devereaux had joined them was short lived, as some of the cultists that had been disoriented by Kastalli were regaining their abilities. Spear in one hand and bell in the other, Kastalli looked around her for those approaching her. "I am about to shove that little bell of yours up your ass, mongrel woman!" shouted a cultist before charging her, but she charged first, spear ready pierce through the wicked man. (1d10 = 6 | Success! | 1 Damage.) (Cultist HP: 8/20) Kastalli watched as the tip of her weapon pierced through the cultists stomach and emerged on their back, he let out a few pained breaths before collapsing. "N-Nyarlaexedum, h-have we failed you?!" said a lady cultist as she backed away from Kastalli. "Even this weak lady is killing our own!" she said before turning around to see Abasi. "G-get him! kill the other mongrel!" she shouted while pointing at the half-Basteti.

Abasi appeared more serious than usual, but despite his grim expression, he began to dance with the same beauty and seduction as he had done back in the tavern, his dancing at first surprised the two cultists that had approached him with their weapons ready to kill the Entariushan dancer, but Abasi used this moment to lunge forth with his daggers ready. (1d10 = 5 | Success | 2 Damage.) (Cultist HP: 6/20) Neither of them saw it coming as the half-Basteti stood behind them, his exotic daggers dripping blood, they looked at each other before collapsing on the floor, blood coming out of their open throats. "Beautiful but deadly, interesting combination." said the old knight while watching Abasi clean his blades. If Alberto needed any more proof that Abasi was useful, he just got it.

Alberto then turned his attention to the cultists approaching him. "Most of your men are dead, why don't you give up?" The cultists didn't respond. "Your dark god is not coming back to this world anymore, all of your attempts to bring that crawling chaos back are fruitless!" He said defiantly as he raised his spear, one of the cultists talked back. "You known nothing, knight, we seek strong souls to bring them back... like your Rune Seeker friend... and the Ddraig!" Alberto raised an eye brow. "What do you mean Ddraig?" He asked with curiosity, but the cultists didn't respond anymore, they looked at each other before rushing down to fight the old knight. (1d10+2 = 5 | Success | 2 Damage.) (Cultist HP: 4/20) But Alberto was far from an incompetent fighter, with one precise thrust, he stabbed one of the cultists right on the heart with his spear, but the surviving cultist kept charging, but the old knight knocked the heathen with a shield bash that dislocated the cultists jaw, knocking them unconscious.

Only four cultists remained standing, most were dead and only a few had been knocked unconscious. It all depended on the Chort, that was now exchanging heavy blows with Sentry. After slashing the demons leg, Sentry was pushed away with a powerful kick from the demon, he was wounded but he seemed unaffected after that strike and luckily, she wasn't heavily wounded either despite the strong attacks from the Chort. The demon grinned as it approached Sentry, but then everyone in the street looked up at the sky as light could be seen on the dark clouds above. The demon heard it, those Draconic words mocking him as a white-eyed Gsera stood with her arms stretched, her snarling face revealing her sharp teeth as she used the destructive side of nature to her benefit. She learned this from the Fir Bolg, the giant men of the Eonach Coillte, she remembered fondly those nights, singing and shouting under the storm, their voices in unison bringing forth the greatest storms the forest had ever seen and using the full extent of her druidic knowledge, she was going to end this demon no matter what.

But to her surprise, Gawain used the opportunity cast a spell of his own. Gsera turned around too see Gawain use both internal and external mana in the ambiance and soon everyone knew why. A griffin ride moved away from the sky as a large stone began to form in the opening sky. "You were waiting to cause this much chaos, huh?" said Edgar as Gawains empty eye socket began to glow bright due to all the magic flowing through both him and Gsera. "This will be... interesting..." said the old lich while witnessing the unlikely mixture of Arcane power and Druidic magic. A mixture that would only grow stronger as the mysterious Dökkálfar cleric that had joined them began casting some sort of dark spell, it felt like every shadow in the area was moving and twisting unnaturally, causing dread on some of Hobs witnessing this. Calocis's intentions were to not only weaken the demon, but to render helpless against the powerful magics being cast against them. As the spell casters gathered strength from the mana around them, Sentry felt empowered, the runes on her body and weapons glowed incredibly bright, she knew she couldn't just swing her blade on this creature anymore, but she was going to help her friend kill it. Lifting her blade and using her powers as a Runeseeker, a lavender colored beam of pure runic power emerged from her blade. Empowering Gsera, Gawain as Calocis.

• 1d10 = 6 | Gawain is not injured by his own spell. 1d10+4 = 14 | Gsera hits. 1d10+4 = 10 | Cal hits. 1d10+2 = 11 | Sentry strengthens the damage. •

• Total Damage: 20 •​

Everyone in the street watched in utter awe and... fear, magic was a powerful tool but rarely seen out there in the wild and much less in a city like Waterham. "D-dear Gaia..." said the Sheriff as the storm above them grew in intensity. "E-everyone take cover!" shouted Alberto as everyone in the street and even deep into the city was looked at the localized but powerful storm, the growing meteorite in the sky, the purple energy and thunder engulfing it and the beam of pure mana strengthening it. The Chort looked up at the sky, it red eyes glowing as the meteorite descended from the skies, unable to move due to the shadows binding him. The powerful meteorite descends and crashes into the Chort, destroying the demon and causing Waterham to shake. Nearby windows burst open as electricity arcs spread through the street before banishing into the air. In the end, only the four spell casters remained standing up, almost as if unaffected by their own magic.

Slowly but surely, those still in the street got back on their feet, including the surviving cultists who watched the remains of the Chort melting away and now, without their leading figure, they looked at each other in silence before nodding to one another, before slicing their throats. "B-bloody hel, stop 'em!" shouted the sheriff to her men, but it was too late. Any surviving cultists killed themselves in the spot. "Bloody madmen!" said constable Sandra as she watched one of the cultists bleed out. Due to the enchanment on their blades, it would be impossible to resurrect them through holy powers.

Soon after, several members of the company approached the scene, led by Ser Weylond and Cassandra. "S-sorry... f-for... lagging behind... uff... I... got s-short legs..." she said between heavy breaths before looking up at Alberto and Cècilia, both of them were shocked, looking at Gsera and Gawain. "W-what was that... s-s-storm about..." asked the Hob scholar, now looking at the spellcasters as well. "...almost like a small Maelstrom." said Cècilia while gently stroking Grunde. Alberto nodded in agreement, he never seen anything like that in his life, and he had seen many great wizards and druids in his long life.

Just a few seconds later would arrive Malthara alongside several constables who started to check the dead cultists in an attempt to perform an arrest, but it was a fruitless task. Cassandra waved at Malthara before embracing her friend. "W...we did it... we beaten them!" shouted the Sheriff. "Goddess Gaia be blessed ya lot decimated 'em!" She said before hugging Korzhev. "I would kiss ya, frog man!" As the sheriff jumped about happily, Alberto looked around for everyone. "Everyone! Whats your status? Are you okay?" He asked before turning his attention of Calocis. "Who... are you...?" He asked while the constables and other members of the company checked the remains of the cultists.

Sentry has discovered two new runes she can use when enchanting weapons and armors.

• Rune of Thunder •


• Rune of Shadows •

By killing both Imps, Syllannan is able to pick up two Demon Hearts.

• Demonic Heart x2 •

The other members of the company scavenge four Wicked Swords from the cultists. By using some unknown enchantment, these blades seem to do +1 extra damage.

• Wicked Blade x4 •​

 

[joshuadim]

Having mustered all her concentration and energy into this final attack, in coordination with those around her, the Chort had been completely and absolutely destroyed by the spell that engulfed not only the demon but the area nearby as well as its thunderous energies shattered glass all around until silence remained and the remaining cultists took their own lives in a manic effort to deny victory. In any other circumstance, Gsera would have been horrified but she felt a serene calmness that was rather unusual given the situation. Perhaps it was the well earned relief after having gone through such copious amounts of stress or perhaps she knew that such violence, which she abhorred, had been justified in this case in self-defence and in defence of others.

Yet she could not join in celebration as she felt weak shortly in the aftermath of the battle, her grasp on consciousness rapidly declining as she collapsed to the her knees before collapsing on her front to the ground below as she welcomed the coming rest in a slightly painful manner.

 

[Infab]

Once Devereaux was back on his feet, he looked about at the carnage left in the wake of the battle. "A spectacular performance, my friends!~" he said, slipping his bow onto his back and giving them a rapid clap of his hands. "And an excellent performance from our local Sheriff and law enforcement officials as well!~" he added afterwards, giving the constables and sheriff some applause as well.

"Everyone! Whats your status? Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine, my good sir! A simple fall from a rooftop wouldn't slow me down in the least! As for the battle, not a scratch on me!~" he replied, before looking over to where Gsera soon collapsed. "I believe our druid friend needs aid, however. We might need a doctor!" he said, pointing towards her body as it lay on the ground. He then glanced to Kastalli, quickly moving over to her side. "Are you alright? Do you need medical attention as well?"

Malthara, meanwhile, squatted near one of the cultist's bodies. Inspecting the cultist's form and their weapons of choice. What an odd blade. She gently picked it up by its handle, inspecting the craftsmanship and its intricate details. It obviously bore some sort of enchantment. She could feel the sinister magical properties emanating from it. It would need extensive study in order to figure out just what sort of dark enchantment it had.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

More constables and members of the company approached the scene. "Lady Sera!" shouted one of the company fights as she rushed to Sera's aid. Alberto kneeled next to Sera, removing his steel gauntlet to touch her neck. "She's breathing and has pulse, she must be exhausted." Cècilia nodded while looking down on the tired Tuatha. "Indeed, she used too much mana... we need to take her to the inn and let her sleep." she added, still holding onto Grunde. Alberto nodded and looked at the company members gathering around Gsera. "Take mistress Sera to the inn, we will all have a talk there once we are done organizing ourselves here." He said, but one of the fighters raised a hand, it was the company's chirurgeon and doctor. "Mind if I take a look at the lass, master Alberto?"

Alberto shakes his head. "Go right ahead." He said before getting back up and approaching Cècilia. "What happened out there? It sounded like we were attacked from every possible direction." He said while taking off his other gauntlet. Cècilia nodded while looking around for Sentry. "I don't know how it happened... we were trying to ambush the Redcap Wannabe and suddenly Zen was attacked by another Tengu ninja." Alberto's expression changed to one of surprise. "What the Hel, another Tengu ninja? W...what about the wannabe." He asked with a tired and frustrated tone, but Cècilia gave the old knight a reassuring smile. "Our latest addition caught him... Abasi." She said while pointing at the half-Bastati.

While Alberto and Cècilia continued talking, the doctor checked the visible wounds of Sera, he noticed her blood was too hot to the touch while he was poking Sera's head. "She got knocked on the head by a mace very hard. Saw it meself!" said Constable Bolby, who watched as the doctor poked the unconscious dragon. "Nothing feels broken... and she's got a few minor cuts but those can be treated better in the inn... alright lads, take miss Sera to the inn, I'll check her there." With the orders given, some of the company warriors and constable Bolby pick up Sera and take her to the inn.

Nearby, Cassandra kneeled next to Malthara as she looked into the Wicked Blade from one of the cultist. "Enchanted... but with what? Some would say only a Rune Seeker would know these things." She said while pointing at Sentry, before giving Malthara a wide grin. "...but I know a very good sorceress can too, hehe." Malthara kept touching the blade, she noticed that it was incredibly sharp, she gently pressed her finger on the blade and watched as her dark blue blood smeared the blade. "Huh... that's very sharp, odd considering these cultists look like they are wearing burlap sacks for uniforms... I doubt they carry many whetstones." added the Hob scholar.

 

[Beann]

"I am about to shove that little bell of yours up your ass, mongrel woman!"

"E-Excuse me?!" Her tail fluffed up at the threat but she would not falter regardless as she charged forth to pierce the cultist with her spear. She watched as he fell over, a small hint of guilt filling her chest for taking a life.

Soon enough, the expedition came out victorious against the cultists. Kastalli looked around at her friends, breathing heavily. Her eyes widened at the sight of Sera collapsing but she herself could not do anything about it.

"Are you alright? Do you need medical attention as well?"

Her ear twitched in delight as she saw her fellow musician, Devereaux. With her adrenaline dying down, the pain from her ribs came back in waves. She winced in pain as she placed a hand over her injuries before shaking her head. "Caught...an axe...earlier..."

 

[Dmaster]

Gawain slowly lowered his shaking hands as the burning magic discharged quietly from them, straightening his posture gradually before wringing out his wrists. The cultists unsurprisingly commit suicide on the spot after the utter disintegration of the Chort, and fortunately the imps were dispatched as well. Slowly the undead mage scanned his eyes about the scene to see if his wraith had perished entirely or merely lost its spectral form. Either way it was of little consequence to him, as his unwilling servant had done a decent enough job in the battle.

"Well this has been a night of excitement. Can't run a few errands in the city without getting stabbed or battling a demon." he commented rather dryly as he began to dust his robes with the back of his hands. "I do apologize for the damage caused by my spell. I had to resort to more destructive methods when the creature withstood my more directed offensive, and I've not had to use spells that strong in quite some time." Gawain gives a light shrug of his arms and shakes his head. "Oh well, whatever horrendous ritual they were planning has been stopped hopefully. On to other matters."

 

[Infab]

"Caught...an axe...earlier..."

Devereaux nodded. "Alright, let's get you to a doctor." he said, gently slipping her arm around his neck in order to keep her up should she have trouble staying upright. "Axes can be quite nasty, really, when used right. I was hit by a particularly gaudy looking one a few years ago. Left a nice scar, but almost lost my arm in the process!"

Malthara nodded, as she listened to her friend speak. As she ran her finger down the blade, she noticed just how sharp it was thanks to its enhancements as her blue colored blood ran down the length of the blade and dripped off. "I believe the sharpness is part of the enchantment, or at least a side effect of it. As for how these cultists came into possession of these weapons, they were likely gifted to them to accomplish whatever task it was they were sent here to do." she muttered softly, glancing to Cassandra as they examined the blade. She then looked at the cut on her finger before gently blowing on the wound. It was as if she was breathing fire itself, as the wound ceased bleeding and was effectively cauterized by the precise gust of air from her lips. Just in case there were any nasty side-effects from being cut by the blade.

Afterwards, she straightened up with the blade in hand and looked to Sentry. She considered bringing these weapons to her attention, but decided to give the warrior a chance to rest for the moment. "Sentry." she said aloud, "We should speak later, once you've rested. I'd like your thoughts on the enchantments on these weapons."

 

[Breadman]

Sentry felt the power of magic course through her body imbuing her with strength she could only imagine until now. As the runes glowed and the blood quickened she remembered. The sound of thunder echoing through the open field as Argiris' shield clashed with the enemies bodies, bending them in two like twigs in the storm. Then the whispers of the witch Antigoni, cursed and abhorrent to living creatures. She remembered those experiences from her past and the runes she crafted after. She let out a yell as she pointed her sword towards the magically gifted members of the party to serve as a conduit to empower them. With her role done, she fell down to one knee. Taking heavy breaths as she clung to the sword to balance herself and not keel over from exhaustion. Even so, a satisfied smile was visible on her face as the chort was reduced to nothing but ash and dust.

"Looks like we were late to aid in battle." Waylond remarked as he sheathed his sword back in its scabbard. Though he may have sounded disappointed, the knight was relieved that the party was in relative good health. Sentry noticed him approach and extend a hand to help her up. "Are you alright, mylady?"

"I'm fine Swifty." She let out a pained grunt as she got up "That thing can hit...but we hit harder." She looked around noticing Sera and Kastali needing help "You're the chivalrous type yeah? Go see if you can help them."

"If you're sure you don't need my aid."

"Go!" The knight bowed his head and turned to lend aid when he is needed. Sentry shook her head and wondered for a second where his rotund cousin was. Probably had to stay back on the knight's orders. Her attention was drawn to the elf that had recently joined them. "That from our cultist friends?" She glanced to the weapons Malthara held in her hand "Aye, I'll look at it. Just gonna take a moment to catch my breath."

 

[Roda the Red]

Syll watched as his weapon tore through the imp's head, but had to quickly made an effort to avoid being thrown off-balance by the momentum of his attack. He felt a bit awkward hearing the constable praising him, but he also couldn't help but to feel proud that the one and only spell of his own creation was such a success, as he had yet to try it in actual combat...some mages would argue that such a thing couldn't be considered a spell at all, but to Syll it was the results what mattered.

Being deep in thought was a luxury that Syllannan couldn't have at the moment though, as there were still cultists that needed to be taken care of. Yet as he tried to rush to the aid of his allies, his legs trembled and gave up. He layed there on one knee as he realized he really needed to catch his breath, even though he was fortunate enough to avoid all harm so far, fighting two imps one after the other was quite exhausting. Things took a turn for the better as he saw his allies doing a great job on their own, with more reinforcements arriving as well.

His gaze eventually gravitated towards a bright orange orb, piercing through the dark veil of the stormy sky as it fell rapidly towards the Chort. There was little the foul fiend could do about it, as dark magic had him locked in place. Syll gazed in awe at the wizardry taking place in front of him, his trance was such that he barely had a few seconds to react and brace for impact, just managing to block his face with his arms. He fell on his back as the explosion threw him a few meters away, fortunately causing no real injuries.

"That...was a grand display i will have to admit" said Syll as he got back on his feet and dusted off his cloak.

The fight had ended at last, with a few remaining cultists quickly deciding on taking whatever secrets they had with them to the grave. It was a pretty gruesome sight, the streets had been painted red and black from their blood. But an air of triumph and relief could be felt in the surroundings, as cheers echoed through the members of the company and the constables.

"Everyone! Whats your status? Are you okay?"

"Do not worry about me, cultists and demons have nothing on road bandits" Syll thought he could treat himself to the faintest bit of a cocky response.
He looked around to see if he could help anyone. A great deal of worry surged into him as he saw Sera and Kastalli being tended to by the medics, he wanted to help them but there was little he could do about it, he was no healer. Instead he approached the mysterious elf who was being interrogated by Alberto.

"Whoever he may be, he came to our aid, and i think we should be thankful for that " Syll interrupted the suspecting knight, it was clear that the man was no threat to them. "That looks like a nasty wound, you should let our doctors give it a look"

 

[Woffy]

When the dust finnaly settled and the battle was over abasi finnaly came out of his trance like state stopping to look around quickly scanning with his eyes if everyone came out of it relatively fine
"Well..it had been a while since i was invited to such a crowded event !" he said while hiding his dagger in his clothes again he then walked around checking again if everyone was alright not caring if he stepped in a body , the others could see he was quite literally licking some of the slash wounds in his arms while doing so

 

[FloweryMuffin]

The cultists that had attempted to sacrifice Korzhev to their strange gods have quite literally been stopped in their tracks as his own gods had answered! The curse was slowly coming to fruition as their legs kept turning a darker and darker shade of purple. They were stuck and he cheered. Now his fellow company could take care of them.

“Ahh, must be quite the regret to worship an evil god now!” Indeed, Korzhev got to watch as the cultists fell one by one. With them the Chort was also taken down in an impressive display of magical ability by the team efforts of Gawain, Sera and ..a third fellow he now had to know the name of. The Sheriff and her constables meant to capture the surviving cultists but they had already killed themselves before anything could be done.

Once the battle was over Korzhev found his way to the rest of his friends. Yet he was only stopped by the sheriff who had successfully caught him in a hug. He patted her head as he gave an answer to her rather silly comment about intending to kiss him. “Now, now, there’s very little need for that, won’t you say? Defeating all of those cultists is enough of a big celebration.”

Once free from that he spoke to Alberto, slowly regaining his usual cheerful demeanor. “Quite alright I must say! If only more than a little tired. Well, before that old fashioned rest, show me towards whoever is in need of healing!”

 

[Elenion Aura]

The convergence of discordant magics sent a blast like from the heart of a tempest tearing through his cloak, whipping wildly behind him until the wind and color died when at last the street came back into focus. Twas a grisly sight to behold. Instinctively, Cal began muttering a quiet prayer as he watched the last of the cultists perform their final duty in service of their Dark Benefactor. Though this last turn of the wheel had pitted them as his enemies in this life, their feet still walked the Path of Night, as his did, even unto the ending of all things. That meant something. Did it not?

A thought, like a sickening dread, overcame him then. He had just aided unknown actors in the slaughter of fellows of the Faith. And the thought that had burrowed its way up from the recesses of his tuburlent mind... What now?

"Who... are you...?"

The words caught him like a blow. An impossible question to answer truthfully, not while the blood of his Dark Brethren still ran in the streets. The dark elf took an instinctive step back, his body alight with tension. He was going to run. That is, until another voice cut in.

"Whoever he may be, he came to our aid, and i think we should be thankful for that "

Cal found himself relaxing, slightly. Perhaps he would not run, after all. Not yet... Not until he'd discerned the meaning of the vision that had brought him to this place. The vision, like a halo of moonlight, which surrounded several of the individuals left alive in the square...

"That looks like a nasty wound, you should let our doctors give it a look"

It was at this point that Cal remembered the wound on his arm. And the pain of it came rushing back along with its memory. Still uncertain, he offered the younger man a nod and made to walk off, under the pretense of seeking medical attention. Fool. His Dread Lord had blessed him with the power to knit flesh with ease... Not that he could risk invoking His name in front of these non-believers. Luckily the old knight seemed too preoccupied to press the issue further. Perhaps now would be a good time to slink away into shadow after all... Surely he could divine the meaning of this vision from afar, without risking discovery and butchery at the hands of these—he glanced at a few of them in turn—savages.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

"And an excellent performance from our local Sheriff and law enforcement officials as well!~"

"Thank ya' a lot, queer clown!" shouted the Sheriff before letting go of Korzhev, despite her wounds, the sheriff was exuberant and joyful. "So ya lot caught the killer too?!" she said while limp walking towards Cècilia. "Then ya did more than enough for me city, I never been so happy to be wrong about folk, ya lot might be queer and wyrd, but ya have done more than I ever hoped for!" The Sheriff then looked at Abasi. "Thank ya, naked cat lad." she said with a toothy grin on her face. "But... who was it...?" she then asked to a nearby constable that had arrived with Malthara. "Eh... oh, the killer? 'twas Belnach, ma'am." The Sheriffs expression soured a bit upon hearing that name. "Bloody heathen trying to send a point across, eh? He alive? If he is, he gonna get the beatin' of his life... search for his daughter, they were close and I know lil' lassie shares her daddy's mentality." said the Sheriff while pressing his hand on her wound. "We already did ma'am... Ursula is nowhere to be seen, she must have escaped." Said a nearby constable as they checked on the bodies. Having heard that that the daughter of Belnach had escaped, the Sheriff let out a heavy sigh before looking at a nearby Griffin rider. "Oi... look around for more suspicious fellows, one of 'em cultists escaped and we also have to look for a young girly named Ursula." The griffin rider nodded before taking off on their steed.

"Caught...an axe...earlier..."

"Alright, let's get you to a doctor."

"Ya said ya need a doctor, eh?" said the company's chirurgeon before approaching Kastalli and Devy. Kastalli explained best she could what had happened and the fighter wearing a bloody apron nodded along before putting a dirty hand on her shoulder. "Stay still and don't scream... 'cuz this gonna hurt, ma'am." He said before pressing his finger on Kastalli's ribs. (Pain Check: 1d5 = 4 | Passed.) Kastalli cringes in pain, but does not passes out from it. "Dear Gaia, there has to be three or more broken ribs here!" said the chirurgeon before looking around in the field. "Oi, Petro or Syll or knight guy that joined us today! Can any of you carry lady Kastalli to the Inn, I need to perform surgery on her as soon as possible." He said before turning to look at Kastalli and Devy. "You can't move a lot miss Kasta... otherwise you might pierce a lung or even worse, your heart." He with a completely serious manner while awaiting for the response of Syll, Petro of Waylond.

While everyone continued talking as more constables arrived to help with the investigation and cleaning of the street. Cècilia watched as Cal walked away from the scene without even muttering a word. "Hey, where are you going sir?" She asked before approaching them. "You just helped our expeditionary company, I think we owe you a well earned thanks!" said the Cècilia while crossing her arms. "You are a Dökkálfar, right? Your kin are not known for travelling this far west and much less the clerical kind." Even if he wanted to walk away, Cal had to stop when the scholar correctly guessed his career path. "I can see various symbols on your tools and instruments... the signs of Kathuum, Arzhang, Sibzu, Gecadre and Bhenulli... some of those Gods are associated with Exedum." Cècilia wasn't trying to start a fight with Cal, she sounded curious but gentle. "So... thank you for helping us... what's your name?" She finally asked with a friendly smile on her face.