Time of Swords
The Twenty Fifth of Elnu-hamba [Elnu Descendent] Year 1348 A. L. (After Landfall)
Silver is fallen behind you and Inge is buried beneath his weight, Tam is fighting, Nico shooting. No turning back.
The sword in your hand flashes crimson as the mage opens his eyes and for a moment they seem as living flame. Burning... crackling... whispering, speaking, singing. Where you to learn all the tongues of this world and of the one you left behind you could not name that feeling.
Is it instinct that carries you forward over the broken ground, is it rage and battle lust such as your kin brought to the fields of Hastings in the Conqueror's time? You could not say, only that all the world melts before you, colors swirling in your sight. The song is not one of alien melodies great and terrible, it reminds you now of the songs your nurse sang by the hearth on long winter's nights when sleet and snow beat against the heavy shutters heralding naught but warm covers and soft dreams.
You trip, almost you stumble, and that root may have saved your life. As you rush forth close enough to smell the sweat and wood smoke on the sorcerer's robes and the strange sweetness of his breath you see eyes not of fire but flesh open in alarm as you swing. Something presses on the blade like the soft hand of a giant, casting it astray, then with a single sharp syllable the man is gone, a shadow into shadows gone.
"It's a glamor!" Inge calls out, still struggling under Silver's weight. You see the cold light flicker and die in her hands as the pain bears down on her.
It is enough, you might not be able to see the sorcerer, but you can hear them shuffling, stumbling over stone. There... behind the tree.
He is already chanting, your limbs grow laden with slumber, but before they can drag you down into the dark a bronze tipped arrow screams out of the dark and pierces the foe in the side, the words cutting off with a scream.
The voice of the waves is in your ear, a strange purpose to it. This time your blow is not slowed, as he raises a hand in feeble defense you slice it off at the wrist, the hand falling with a sickening thud to the ground. A warrior would be lost now, but the wizard still has his tongue. "Please, I see that you are not common brigands, let us speak like men, not gnaw... at each other... like beasts...." The words come slow, gasping but they sound so reasonable, all the doubts you had earlier redoubled and echoing in your mind.
"Sto..." the words die in your lips as a sword drives into your back, slipping between the steel bands and cutting through leather. The pain and the weight of the man behind you sends you stumbling forward.
You take 8 Damage
"No! Let him..." the sorcerer shouts... and these are the last words he ever utters. A fistful of ice smashes into his face, crushing into the back of his head.
Half-blinded by the pain you turn to face the last foe, bleeding from a graze on his face and weeping openly at the death of his companions. You had been amazed once at how often one can find tears in a battle, but no more. You raise your sword, ignoring the pain in your left side when you do the same to your shield... and good that you did. It saves you from a blow heavy enough to splinter wood.
Another arrow flies over both your shoulders, but you do not hear Inge anymore. This is up to you now.
Thrust... parry... guard... lunge, he is good, well-trained and battle-tested, but so are you and your shield makes it easier to push aside the blows of his heavy bronze sword until finally you find your opening, a blow between the helm and strange articulated chest-plate. The last of the Imperials dies in a torrent of red.
Stumbling forward you come to Silver and Inge, tears clouding your eyes. There is no way... there is no way he can walk after this. God, let the girl be alive at least. You push him aside with failing strength. Inge speaks, her words strangely clear and without trace of pain, almost remote.
Many have died, many yet lie upon the edge
The time has not yet come to pass the hedge
Pale lantern guide us home this night
Out of shadows beyond mortal sight
What magic does Inge gain?
[] Write in Inges level up (must include at least one healing spell)
OOC: Damn, that was brutal. I did not expect you guys to struggle so hard with these guys, but you had some unlucky breaks and at such low levels bad dice can be really bad indeed. For anyone wondering the mage cast swift invisibility there, a 3.5 spell but one that I think makes sense for a P6 campaign. Not like there are a lot of mages who have the spell slots to quicken the regular version of the spell.
