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Tavern of Legend Event 3: The Dragon Cultist

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The fighting continues. The wake of the dragon’s destruction left many with serious injuries, forcing Ghallen to work with even greater speed just to keep up with the injuries. He does take the time to send out a distress call, alerting others in the area of the plight here at the Tavern grounds. He hoped that it would reach someone soon, because the numbers here were just barely holding it together, and the enemy surely had something in store. Fortunately, it seemed one individual already answered the summons. In a flicker of light, a melodic voice cuts over the din of battle, shouting out his observations of the great fight.

“Well isn’t this the sordid party? Come on ye rabble, band together and drive back this scourge.”

A man of exceptional beauty, with a voice that seemed to care not for the noise but rose over top of it, speaking with gentle authority, walks out onto the battlefield. A lute in hand, he strums out a few notes and begins to sing.

The dragons came for the treasure,
But a fight is what they found!
They sought to take their measure,
But here they are bound!
I call upon you weary,
The fighters of this day,
Strike back, riposte and parry,
And send the dragons on their way!

The magic of the man’s voice washes over everyone, making them suddenly feel invigorated and better prepared for fighting. For the duration of this event, everyone is bumped by 50% (so now your one post is always 1.5 posts, or 3 posts damage value every two turns).


Ghallen finishes some healing, and then turns and bats away some problematic Kobolds who were going after the wounded. He fights with renewed vigor, clubbing away at them with grace and ease. He takes down six of those vermin before they knew what happened.

Vaddock and Levhea work together double teaming a Savak who was trying to give them trouble. The Savak launched a nasty attack at Vaddock, but Levhea fought him off, driving him back with devastating blows from her sword while Vaddock prepared some more potent magic. The creatures proved resistant to direct magical assaults, so instead, Vaddock used telekinetic magic to lift the corpses of others and hurl them into the Savak, knocking him down repeatedly with a volley of nasty blows, stunning the creature long enough to allow Levhea to come in and cleave off her head. As she finished, Vaddock nails a couple Kobolds with magic missiles, who thought they were being sneaky.

Lonely Night’s Hand has his sights set on the dragon, but one of the cultists steps up to intercede him on his way to fighting the giant creature. The cultist tries to draw him away, but Hand dances around him and continues towards the dragon. The cultist refuses to relent, pressing his attack and forcing the man to engage. Hand decides to oblige, by swiftly dancing circles around the creature and using illusions to feint attacks, distracting it from the real killing blow of his sword, which comes when it least expected it. He then moves on towards the dragon.

The Patrons fight with renewed resolve as they hear the words from the Bard playing his magic. They gang up on a magic-wielding aurak, working together to overwhelm the beast through sheer numbers. At first, it seems that their fight is a lost cause, as it keeps sending people hurtling away, but they finally get the drop on it, literally jumping on its back and forcing it down, where they repeatedly cut and stab and chop at the dragon creature until it stops moving. While they fought it down, a Kapak and three Kobolds tried to interfere, but they were quickly dispatched.


Remaining in the battle:

  • Kobolds: 27
  • Kapak: 33
  • Dragonkin: 25
  • Dragonkin Cultist: 8
  • Savak: 1
  • Aurak: 0
  • Dragon: 7/10

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Sarya gasped as a feeling of renewed strength washed over her. The throbbing in her ribs ceased, however she was sure they were still broken. She stood up straighter and readied her weapon, hope beginning to fill her mind once more. The Dragon-kin lay before her, groaning slightly. She took her chance quickly. Diving forward, she thrust her sword into the scale-less area, happy to end the horrid creature's life. It shuddered and grumbled, but lay still after a moment. Sarya withdrew her sword and looked forward, ready for the next attack.

A Kapak was already on its way, its dagger outstretched. She dodged easily and began parrying with it. It started to tire quickly, and began backing up as she pushed forward. She found an opening and struck at it's dagger, which it released from the power of her attack. The dagger spun in the air before landing in the dirt. She smiled, and looked at the Kapak, who stared at her, frozen for a moment.

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( @Pickled)

Iani watched, wide-eyed, Timothy launched himself aboard the dragon. He held his next shot, unsure if he could release his arrow without risking the life of the guy on top of the damned thing.

"Ok. Sure. Difficulty: nine-point-five. Execution: eight. Practicality: three-point-two. But style? Perfect ten!"

The dragon bucked like an enraged bull, spinning and circling mid-air in an attempt to dislodge his passenger. It took Iani a second to realize it was getting closer to the house he was standing on... too close. WAY too close.

"Aw fuck."

He looked down at the drop from the tall side of the gable, then back at the approaching dragon which was taking no notice of the piddly little farm house it was about to demolish. Iani looked down again. Then at the dragon again. 

"Fuck fuck fuck. I picked a bad day to stop sniffing glue."

He dropped his arrow and slung his bow over his shoulder, drawing his daggers from their sheaths. As the first timbers shattered from the impact of the dragon's wingtip, he spoke the arcane command word that activated their magic.

FWOOP! The air collapsed in a soft puff into the now-empty space where Iani had just been standing; the magic in the pair of knives rendered him incorporeal and launched him in a direct line to Timothy, where the panther-kin reincorporated. 

He jammed his knives into the dragon's back and squeezed the hilts, injecting an anti-coagulant into the wounds, and gave Timothy a lame shrug.

"I dunno, I guess you made it look like fun. Hold on, it's about to get rough. Er. Rough-er."

That's about when the dragon plowed full-force into the farmhouse.

 

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Bits of blue barn blew around Timothy as the dragon went through the farmhouse. He held on tight as he regarded his new companion, one Iani. It seemed that they had no choice but to hold on to the dragon on a joyride through the town. The dragon flew through buildings and other landmarks, bits of debris flying every way. 

Timothy took a deep breath.

He slowly crept forward to the neck of the dragon. The dragon was trying very hard to get Timothy off. It twirled around, its belly facing the pale sky. Timothy's back barely touched the ground as the dragon slowly went down. 

It swung back to its normal position, now climbing higher in the sky.

Timothy managed to reach its head. It shook its head furiously, loosening the grip of one of Timothy's hands. He dropped down, only to grab onto the dragon's foot.

Timothy took a deep breath.

He quickly returned to his position as the dragon pierced through a covering of clouds, drenching Timothy in water. Timothy grabbed a hold of the dragon's eye, and stabbed the eye several times. Blood spurted out, showing a sign of success.

The dragon cried in pain, starting to stall and fall to the ground. Timothy jumped down, hanging onto one of the dragon's exposed teeth. He took out his bow, and nocked an arrow. He shot the arrow through the mouth, skimming down into its trachea. A large explosion went off, and the dragon stopped moving. It fell to the ground.

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The bard was not the only one who was alerted by the distress call. Crow mounted his reddish brown steed in a hurry, forgetting completely about the game of darts that he had been challenged to. The man was a cheater anyways. Snatching up his 6 ft long spear, "Mortem", that rested against a barrel, he swiftly made his way to the site of the raging battle.

But as he drew near to the fight, the things that he saw caused him to hesitate. A woman lying badly wounded on the ground screamed to the high heavens as she slowly bled out. Half her body was gone, there was no saving her. Crow rode on.

Next he passed a dwarf being pushed backwards by a dragon of some sorts that was able to stand on two legs. At this rate of mindless evolution, soon horses would be trotting around on two legs as well. Barely batting an eye, he leapt off of the his steed, slamming the dragon in the torso with a powerful horizontal kick. He rolled and pushed himself back to his feet, leveling his spear as the dragon shuffled back in confusion. In the corner of his eye, Crow saw the terrified patron taking advantage of the confusion and scrambling away. He sighed to himself. He recalled all the times that he had saved someone not knowing that they would dip out the first chance they got. Suddenly, he was thrown backwards by a blow that he barely blocked with the shaft of his spear. He shoved Mortem into the ground, steadying himself. His thoughts had distracted him. Again.

The dragon wielded a spear that was much longer than his own. It thrust the spearhead at him, an attempt to skewer Crow in the abdomen. He sidestepped it skillfully, leaving Mortem still embedded in the ground. Overextension and oversight were two things that could not be compromised on. And this reckless attack by the dragon would cost it its weapon. Crow unsheathed his claymore and grabbed hold of his adversary's spear, before slicing through the shaft as if it was made of paper. The dragon pushed forward in confusion, shocked by the loss of his weapon. Crow followed up immediately, slashing the claymore into the dragons side. It did less damage than a pebble would against a brick wall. Crow grit his teeth. The dragon's armored scales were much too strong for his sword to penetrate. It reared up and unleashed a powerful wind blast that knocked Crow backwards. Lunging forward, it clawed at his wrists, trying to disarm the ranger. For a moment, they grappled with each other, before Crow deftly released his blade, ducking under the dragon's swiping claws and rolling back a mere metre where his spear still stood. He wrenched the spear out from the ground and shoved it deep into the soft underbelly of the dragon. Whatever sense of victory the beast had from claiming Crow's claymore was now lost. It backed up quickly, tearing itself free of the spear, but leaving a bloody gash in the middle of its stomach. Rearing up with its chest high, it brought its wings down along its sides defensively and roared. Crow backed up, whistling sharply. Amid the chaos, his reddish brown horse dashed past the battling warriors and took its place beside him. He leapt atop and straddled it, raising his spear in a defensive stance against the dragon, daring the beast to run itself through onto his wicked blade.

 

(1.5/3 to a Dragonkin Cultist)

Edited by Aves

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This is a makeup post for Thursday/Early Friday. 

More enemies enter the battle. As the brave Tavern patrons defend their place of drinking and merriment, the enemy tries to press the advantage by bringing in more reinforcements. 

  • The remaining Kapak (10)
  • The remaining dragonkin (10)
  • The remaining Cultists (15)
  • A half dozen Savak (6)
  • A trio of Aurak (3)
  • A second dragon spotted (not yet arrived)


Lonely Night's Hand: He had his sights set on hunting down the dragon, but someone beat him to it. Instead, he settles for fighting one of the newly arrived Aurak, dodging a lobbed ball of fire as he closes in on it. He dances to the size, taking the measure of his enemy before making calculated attacks, wearing the creature down. The battle goes on, as he has to work towards finding its weakness. To any who have the chance to see this fight, they can tell that the creature is getting panicked--the bartender has the upper hand. 

Vaddock and Levhea:  The married couple who really are inseparable go in together against a Savak, who tries to go after the mage, only to move a little to slow. Vaddock distracts the creature by hurling chunks of debris kicked up by the dragon crash, tossing things into its face while Levhea positions herself for a deadly strike. The creature plays its hand and reveals a flaw in its armor, which the battle-tested woman takes full advantage of, sinking her mighty blade deep into its flesh. The Savak goes down. 

Gallen: He spends his turn in prayer, calling upon Gaia to render her aid. When he finishes, five earth elementals burst from the ground, brandishing fists made of stone. In total they together make up a post value of four posts. 

Collective Patrons: The other patrons continue working together. They tear through a cultist, a dragonkin, a kapak, and three kobolds by the time they are through. All without losing numbers. 

Remaining in the battle:

  • Kobolds: 24
  • Kapak: 41
  • Dragonkin: 38
  • Dragonkin Cultist: 21, 1.5/3
  • Savak: 6
  • Aurak: 2, 3/5
  • Dragon: 0 (one on the way)

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Actual post for today

The dragon is getting closer but is not yet close enough to attack the armies. Those with particularly long-ranged attacks can begin attacking the foul creature. 

Lonely Night's Hand: His patience pays off, as he scares the Aurak into making a mistake and then tears the spellcaster to shreds. He then turns and takes down four kobolds while he is at it, trying to position himself in preparation for the coming dragon attack. 

Levhea and Vaddock: The tandem duo engages in battle with a cultist and a Kapak. Through magic slinging and sword swinging, they rip their enemies down and move on.  

Gallen: He spends his turn putting up a protective ward around all the allies in this fight. In the next round, the dragon's attack will be less effective, likely saving many NPCs from death!

The Patrons: The other patrons suddenly feel even braver, like the weight of fear of death were lifted from them. They go to take on a Savak with a couple of cronies in tow (Kapak), and after a prolonged struggle, the managed to bring them all down.  

The Golems: The golems are less about finesse and more about straight up brutal force. They start tearing through dragon-kin, beating two of them into a pulp. 


Remaining in the battle:

  • Kobolds: 20
  • Kapak: 38
  • Dragonkin: 36
  • Dragonkin Cultist: 20, 1.5/3
  • Savak: 5
  • Aurak: 2
  • Dragon: 0 (one on the way)

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The last of the bard's string of lyrics faded off into the roaring sound of combat. The warmth in Crow's body left along with it. His grip faltered for a mere second, and the dragonkin cultist leveraged his weakness and charged him. As if riding upon the clouds, Red Rabbit reared up on its back two legs and vaulted over the cultist as it barreled under them, ramming its rear hooves into the beast's head for good measure. The dragonkin tumbled over onto its face. Crow snatched up the reins, recovering from his temporary 'outage', before lowering his spear as the horse charged into the dragonkin. It tried to scramble out of the way to no avail. It ended in a matter of seconds, the tip of the spearhead embedded in the head of the beast, dragging it along as they rode on.

"Thanks buddy, you saved me," he caressed the neck of his horse for the few sweet seconds that he had to relax. He ducked as an axe sailed over his head. "To the high ground!" he commanded his horse, stabbing and warding off the various creatures that dared to intercept him.

Upon the top of a hill, all Crow saw was the numerous amount of enemies gathered before him. Beyond the rows of battling combatants, an uncountable number came from beyond to reinforce them. He had seen worse odds. And in the cases of those worse odds, he usually bailed out. But he was far too deep in this now to escape. Besides, there was no telling whether or not he would ever be able to return to his homeworld if the portals in the tavern were taken over by dragonkin. Red Rabbit whinnied nervously. The dragonkin had caught sight of the horseman and were closing in on him. His scanned his surroundings. Other than his horse, he was utterly and completely alone. And if that one cultist alone had been so difficult to take down, there was no way that he could take on so many of them at once.

Suddenly, an earthshattering crash turned not only his, but the head's of the numerous dragonkin. There was little warning, but as the mighty dragon plowed face first into a barn house before being knocked down, Crow could barely make out the two figures atop it that had brought about its downfall. He looked about elsewhere. There were no signs of other survivors, except for a few tavern regulars who were now hastily retreating back to Vaddock. His survival was unlikely if he were to decide to take on the dragonkin that now began to swarm towards him like a horde of zombies. Steering his horse around, he skillfully maneuvered his way out of the encirclement, using his spear to deflect as many blows as he could. The spear of one of the cultists pierced a gash in his side, threatening to wrench him off the horse. With much difficulty, he brought his weapon down upon the spear, snapping it in two. He rode off towards the corpse of the first dragon, his weapon trailing and with the spearhead still lodged in his side. He grew giddy as everything transcended to a blur. All he could feel was the soft trotting of his horse's hooves impacting against the dry blood-stained ground. That was when the bird's cry awoke him from his daze.

Up in the sky, just beyond the horizon, he made out several dozen or so small black birds making their way towards him. So the crows did hear his whistle for help. He would have felt relieved if not for the roar that tore the clouds apart with its sheer strength, coming from the opposite direction of the crows. He could barely make out a massive dark shape in the distance, but it was moving very very quickly for something its size. Pulling the bloodied spearhead out from his body, his vision began to clear, and he could make out a pair of gigantic wings as well as a horned head. As if one dragon hadn't been enough. They had brought another.

 

(3/3 to Dragonkin Cultist)

Edited by Aves

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Manse trudged through the blood soaked mud towards the chaos before him. "Better late than never." The ranger thought to himself. His long sword bobbed with a determined purpose gripped loosely in his dominant hand. He let his peripheral vision absorb what it could from the chaos, but he kept his focus on the gaggle of kobold that had took interests on the approaching giant. The group of ten sought to flank manse, and they made their charge.

Sloppily.

Five of the small lizard kin made a head-on charge for the waiting warrior. Three broke left of the pack, and two tried to mirror right. Their charge was early, however, and the brief moment it took them to close the ground between them and the waiting man passed for a lifetime. Manse forced his breathing to slow. It didn't matter how many battles the man had faced; his heart always pounded like a war drum when it came the time to take up arms. Adrenaline surged through the ranger.  Taverns and small talk were difficult, but this, this was the man's blood and soul.

Manse felt alive.

He continued forward slowly, confidently. He let the flanking kobolds pass his gaze without the slightest hint of acknowledgement, and as the main troupe had finally closed the distance he brought his long sword up with his dominant hand in a back handed swing. Many of the kobolds hardly surpasses his waist; his blade did not have far to travel.  He kept his elbow and wrist lose not fully extending the blade or exerting to much stamina. The sword cleanly crossed the abdomen of the forward most attacker spilling the squealing lizard-kin into the already blood-soaked mud. Two kobolds had been heavy on the point man's tai, and his sudden stop caused them to blunder into his back. Manse had anticipated their accidental shove of their expiring ally. He let the weight of the sword and the light momentum of the first strike carry his weight into a spin. He let his off-foot slide across the mud allowing him to pivot on heel of the other. As inertia kicked in and his momentum began to waver, he shifted his weight hard onto his off foot  and finished the spin fiercely letting his wrist and elbow lock-out and relieve the two off balance kobolds of their heads.

Manse dashed forward passing through two confused kobolds and completely foiling the laughable tactics of those setting up the flank. The leftmost of the two remaining goons of the initial charge, despite his incomprehension of Manse's change in positioning, reflexively brought his spear into a rudimentary impersonation of a cross guard. The spearhead bit into the ranger's tricep as he passed by. Manse did not grant the grazing a glance, but the rapid tingling of a fresh cut did register on his mind. He was too damned big to be fighting against a swarm of stab-happy lizard kids. He locked his elbow out and brought his off hand to the sword; sliding his strong foot ever so slightly back he assumed a mid-guard. A thin stream of crimson leapt from the flexed muscle.

The accidental grazing inspired a sense of confidence in the kobold and he pressed for advantage; his partner mirrored. Meanwhile, the flanking groups had mustered together and had begun to spread out, spears drawn, surrounding Manse in a horseshoe formation. Gods knew how fast it all played out, but to Manse it felt like a century as he baited the kobolds towards the shed. The doors were shut. The ranger prayed that meant it was vacant. The one of the two kobolds inside the formation with the man grew complacent and made a hard lunge at the ranger. The speed of Manse's downswing beat the spear leaving no need for a parry, and parted muscle and bone from the attackers shoulder. Life had left the kobold's eyes before the blade emerged from deep within his stomach, entrails tailing it like streamers. The second kobold saw his opportunity and made his move. His lunge was directed at man's face. Manse swatted the spear with his forearm sending the kobold stumbling off balance. Manse lunged and cleanly pierced the kobold in the chest. With a rehearsed twist and tug he freed his sword.

The formation closed and manse backpedalled until his back thudded against the strong wood of the double doors of the structure. He'd keep them in front of him away from his back, and he would slaughter them all.

That was when the doors blew off the shed in fiery splendor sending Manse and kobolds sprawling.

The aurak stepped from the smoke...

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The dragon fell out of the sky, with two people still hanging on. It was heading towards the ground, weakened by the blow to its insides. Timothy held on to a claw, his body flailing with the spinning corpse in the air. He moved his hand up to a scale, and tried to pull himself up. Timothy pulled with all of his strength, and got his feet on the claw. 

The dragon was now halfway down to the ground.

Timothy kept climbing to the top of the mostly-dead dragon. It was still breathing, only to keep living. It was unable to move or prevent the falling in any way. Timothy grabbed hold of the back, and used his legs to push him up on to it. He stabbed the back with his dagger, and forced it in deep. He gripped the dagger hard, forcing blood to slip out his hand.

The dragon plowed through trees and buildings, causing lots of damage. It slipped out one last groan, and broke through the main lines of the battle. Timothy took his dagger out of the dragon's back, and went around it. It was still alive, smoke coming out of its snout. A bit of fire came out of its mouth.

Timothy braced himself for another blast of fire.

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Sarya dove forward before the creature could regain it's confidence and sliced the Kapak's neck open. It's eyes widened in surprise at her ferocity before slowly fading as the life escaped it. It fell to the ground in a heap, blood soaking the rest of it's body.

She looked up, proud of what she had accomplished so far. Her confidence was rising with each battle, which in turn caused her strength to increase. Although her entire body was drenched in sweat from the intense battles, she did not feel the exhaustion that was sure to take her soon. The excitement at her success overpowered her tiredness, for now. She spun her sword skillfully in her hand, awaiting her next attacker. None seemed to come. An explosive cracking sounded beside her, and she gasped, spinning towards the noise. A farm house a number of yards from her seemed to be taking heavy damage from a dragon as it crumbled to the ground. She winced at the destruction around her. Although hope was still present in her, a small tinge of doubt began to arise. She tried to shake it off, but the sight of another dragon rapidly approaching made her eyes widen, and the doubt slowly began to spread.

Another Kapak took advantage of her distracted mind. It dove from the air towards her, and tackled her to the ground. She gasped in surprise, her sword falling from her hand. The Kapak began stabbing at her with it's dagger, and panic rose in Sarya. She gasped and scrambled to get it off of her, but it's weight was too much. Her ribs began burning once again, but she had no choice but to ignore the pain. She managed to grab it's left arm to keep it from driving it's dagger in her. They grappled, neither giving up. With a last-ditch attempt, Sarya reached to her right, searching the ground for her sword while continuing to hold the Kapak's dagger at bay. Finding the hilt, she grasped it and swung her arms upward, the blade making contact with the side of the creature. It screamed and rolled off Sarya, allowing her to scramble up from the dirt. The creature was still off balance, and she used the opportunity to rush forward and stick her sword into it's bruised side. Another scream escaped the Kapak as she pulled her bloodied sword out. With a quick swipe, she sliced off the creature's head. It's body wriggled for a moment before it lay still. Breathing hard, she regained her footing and looked forward, not wanting to become distracted another time.

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"Not today!"

Iani dropped from the top of the dragon's head onto its snout, snapping its jaws shut before it could unleash a blast of pure force and puree poor Tim.

What followed was several seconds of vicious struggle, with the dragon trying to crush Iani by smashing it's head into what was left of the walls, while Iani used his knives and claws to drag himself up the dragon's face.

Finally, Iani reached his goal and put the point of his dagger a bare inch from the beast's serving-platter-sized eye.

"Woah now. Easy big boy. Hold on a second," he panted. "Hold on. Let's talk."

The dragon looked at him dubiously, but ceased trying to kill him. For the moment.

"Look, we both know how this is supposed to go. I poke your eye out and you tear my face off in your death throes. Kinda sucks for both of us, right?"

The dragon didn't respond except to narrow its massive eyebrows a little.

"Or! Or. Maybe think of it this way. I don't know you, you don't know me, nobody owes anybody any money or nuthin' here. Under other circumstances we'd probably both be in that tavern trying to drink each other under the table. Right? So how about my buddy and I just walk out that... uh..." 

Iani looked around at the ruins of the farmhouse and gestured vaguely to a place where a door might at one time have logically been.

"We walk out that 'door', if you will, and you lay here and bleed until someone calls the all clear. Live to hoard another day, right? You dig?"

The dragon still did not reply, but Iani chose to read its expression as one of cautious optimism.

Could also have been homicidal rage. Who can even tell? He didn't even know dragons had eyebrows until this very moment!

"Ball's in your court, big guy. Seems like a total no-brainer to me. Unless you're happy sacrificing your life so a few more kobolds can make it to the pizza party. Wouldn't you rather make it to the pizza party? I love pizza, myself. Maybe I'll buy you a slice when this is all over. And a beer. Dragons like beer. Right? Sure they do."

Iani sheathed his weapons and hopped off the dragon's snout. He began picking his way through the rubble back towards the battlefield. As he passed Timothy, he gave the man a companionable slap on the shoulder. 

"Come on, Mad Dog. We're done here. Let's get back to it."

He stepped out under the bright sky once again, just in time to hear a blood curdling roar from the distance. His sharp eyes clearly discerned the shape of another dragon approaching.

"Motherf--DUDE! Really??" He threw his hands in the air. "I took care of the last one; that means this one is someone else's problem! Right? Please tell me this one is someone else's problem!"

( @Pickled )

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The dragon looms overhead. It appears to be taking in the surroundings, deciding where to let loose its horrid breath weapon. The shadow of its reach spreads far over the field, leaving everyone in a cast of darkness. The tell-tale sign of its impending attack comes at the sound of a soft hiss, followed by a deafening roar. The bolt of force comes crashing down, sending debris flying in all directions. It slams into the allied fighters, but Gallen's protective shield prevents them from taking the worst of it. There are no actual deaths, only a handful of individuals in need of healing. The elementals seem unfazed entirely. 

Hand: He was was ready for the dragon this time. As it swooped in and unleashed its deadly breath upon the field, he releases a burst of shadow magic and slams it back into the wings of the dragon, knocking it off balance and sending it sprawling across a nearby farm. He charges after it, intending to finish the beast off himself if need be. 

Levhea and Vaddock: The married duo find themselves awash in Kobolds and Kapak, trying to prevent them from reaching deeper into the fray. Together, they  cut through 8 Kobolds and two Kapak. 

Gallen:  He spends this turn healing the injured patrons, ensuring they fight at full effectiveness this turn. 

Patrons: The patrons stay close to the cleric, working to ensure the healer can tend to those who need it without having to worry about fighting off enemies. Two Cultists with a Kobold try to get by them, but they make sure they go down. 

Elementals:  The elementals take on some of the swelling numbers of dragonkin, ripping two to shreds and then beating down a Kapak while they are at it. 


Remaining in the battle:

  • Kobolds: 6
  • Kapak: 34
  • Dragonkin: 36
  • Dragonkin Cultist: 18
  • Savak: 5
  • Aurak: 2
  • Dragon: 7/10

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@Ozton123

The Aurak was already upon the poor ranger to deliver the killing blow. Oh what a brave soul, doomed to a terrible end by fire. Or so the dragonkin thought. Had it not been so pleased after nearly downing a single man, it would’ve heard the easily audible clopping of hooves in the distance. But it had let the sound get much too near to itself.

Out of the blue, a blur of red came crashing into the Aurak, sending it sprawling into a tree. The dragonkin managed to slow itself by digging its claws into the ground, stopping just before crashing into the rock hard trunk. It flared its fangs at its new adversary, a pair of fireballs forming in each of its gnarled hands. Sitting atop his steed, Crow was all that stood between the ranger and the dragonkin. He stood unmovable between the two, Mortem's glowing purple edge hungry for the magical energies within the beast. Howling in frustration, the dragonkin hurled both fireballs that it conjured straight towards the horseman. Crow ever so calmly swung Mortem's spearhead into both of the fireballs, instantly dispelling them and absorbing their magical energy.

Spoiler

Spear "Mortem"
Mortem translates into death, which is often misinterpreted as bringing death to the enemy. Rather, it brings death to energy, whether it be magical, kinetic, or sound. Mortem's sharp purple tip is made from Auryl crystals. Upon wounding a magic user, the spear begins to sap the magical energy from the caster, converting it to heat energy which causes the spearhead to be able to inflict severe burns. The tip is mounted on a 6ft mokume-gane shaft, which is able to withstand high amounts of heat energy that comes from the tip, as well as being resilient against impact.

 "My turn," he grinned, aiming the spearhead back at the creature, before unleashing a single ray of fiery energy back into the dragonkin's chest. The dragonkin stumbled back as the blast hit him. However, when the ray exhausted itself, the Aurak merely scoffed the blow off and prepared another pair of fireballs within its palms. It appeared that the beast had its own defenses against magic as well.

Gripping Mortem tightly, he bade his horse to charged at the beast. The Aurak met him head on by blasting the ground around them with the fireballs, scorching the ground. Immediately, Crow pulled on the reins, steering his steed away before the fire injured its hooves. His spear remained pointed at the Aurak as he dismounted, before he commanded his steed to run away. The horse turned and bolted. Both parties watched each other with caution, separated by a ring of fire. Crow was the first to attack. Bursting through flaming encirclement, Crow thrust his spear towards the Aurak, warding him off. The Aurak had its own plans, standing firm as a statue as it absorbed the weapon's impact. However the sudden halt stopped Crow's charge, leaving him right in the middle of the scalding flames. The fire charred his body, and he had no choice but to release the spear to avoid getting fried to death. The creature grinned smugly, hurling the spear far out of reach of the horseman. Whistling, softly, Crow could think of only one plan. But he needed time. He ducked to avoid the first fireball, that hit the ground a few feet away from Manse, who was still on his back. He evaded the second one that sailed past him, but barely avoided the third one that he had not seen the dragon conjuring. The Aurak was fast. But Crow was faster. At last, it became impatient, roaring at the unarmed man as it charged towards him, hooked claws gleaming menacingly.

It was then that the bird flew in out of nowhere. A small black shape flew between the dragonkin and the horseman, cawing aggressively. Behind it, two more came, carrying a sword in their palms. Crow leapt and grabbed the Nth Claymore from within the talons of the birds, swiftly swinging it at the dragonkin's throat. The blade did little than dent the skin, barely penetrating into its body, but it stunned the creature enough to knock it backwards. He circled the creature with his superior agility, ducking to avoid several swipes before dashing under its arm, slashing a thin gash in its side. However, he had accomplished one thing. He had managed to distract the Aurak and turn it a complete 180 degrees, such that it now had its back turned to Manse. But if the ranger chose not to assist him, he had other means to escape from the fiery circle.

Spoiler

Nth Claymore
The Nth Claymore is forged from Nth, which can be inferred from the title. This causes the 4ft weapon to be very light and easy to swing, although that does compromise some of the crushing damage that can be caused by its momentum.

 

(Aurak 3/5)

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The next dragon crashed through a farm, bits of leaves and stocks flying every where. Timothy went towards it, determined to help defeat every dragon. In front of him were 6 kobolds. Timothy stopped walking, and took out his dagger. The kobolds surrounded him, snarling loud curses to demean Timothy.

Timothy went into his stance, standing at the ready. One kobold jumped towards him, kicking the dirt around its body. The dirt flew towards Timothy, just like the Kobold, lightly dusting him. The kobold landed on Timothy's blade, cleaning slicing in half. Its halves slid to the ground, neatly landing in a heap of blood. 

The remaining 5 kobolds grew furious that their friend was killed, and 2 more pounced on Timothy. He jumped up, causing the kobolds to crash into each other. Timothy landed on their heads, crushing them with the force of gravity. Blood spilled out of the cracked heads, leaving a stain on Timothy's boots. He wiped the boots off quickly, not to be distracted from the fight.

"Thin skulls, lads," said he. The last 3 slowly approached Timothy, their spears out. They forced the spears forward, pointing towards Timothy's chest. He got on his back almost instantly, causing the spears to clash with the other. Timothy scurried toward a Kobold, his dagger in his hand. He slit the lizards heel, blood gushing out of it. It screamed in pain as it fell down, along with the spear. Timothy stood up, and grabbed the wretched spear. He got behind the wounded Kobold, and rushed forward.

The Kobold was skewered onto the spear, as its friends soon went on too. Timothy threw the spear to the ground, next to the heap of bloodied corpses.

"6 more lizard scum dead," he stated. He headed towards the dragon.

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