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The Heartwood
Bordertown
Afternoon
Hasday, The Twenty-Second Day of the Month of Crown of Ice, 2623

Cesare, Darian, Longtooth, Bekkah, Dean, Kadri, Mikal and Romana

"There is always enough time for kindness ..."

And with a spin upon her heel Lady Kay vanished into her manor ... and a little bit later returns to the small collection of curse-breakers. Under one arm she has what appears to be a large, gingham cloth covered picnic basket. the scent of warm bread slips into the cool afternoon air.

Romana, she simply returned Daxia's nod, walking then, carefully, to her little spur of rock before sitting down.

Lady Kay walked to the edge of the well and looked down.

"Now how to we get from here to there?"

Daxia

A slow smile spread across the young Dayalan's face. "We shimmy down the rope here, I'm afraid. I could lower you -- there's a bit of a... well, we'll call it a ledge... about half way down. Then your basket, yah? Then you will need to take a step backwards so I have room, yah? Only one step; it is very dark, and very ugly."

Daxia looked the Atteran in the eyes. "Very ugly, Lady. I warn you of that not to deter you, but to give you a chance to steel yourself for the sight."



[OOC: I am assuming that everyone except Romana -- and maybe Longtooth -- is at the top of the tower where their conversation seems to be happening.]

The Heartwood
Bordertown
Afternoon
Hasday, The Twenty-Second Day of the Month of Crown of Ice, 2623

Cesare, Darian, Longtooth, Bekkah, Dean, Kadri, Mikal and Romana

"The things I do for you My Lady ..."

Setting the basket down, the Priestess of Attera looks down the well, albiet a bit suspiciously.

"You know, in my day we were smart enough to tie knots in the rope. Makes the going down a bit easier. It's the coming back up that will be difficult. Are you sure there's no other way?"

With a breath she tests the rope and then vanishes into the darkness.

Daxia

Daxia sent her little starlight down the well with the Atteran, with raised eyebrows and a quiet, "Huh." She then lowered the basket of food, and followed once Lady Kay had the basket firmly in hand.

Once in the main chamber, she sent her light ahead of them and merely gestured towards the west chapel in silence.

Daxia

Some time later, Daxia climbed out of the well... alone. She looked up at the top of the tower where her comrades still gathered -- all but Romana -- then surveyed the ruins. There were far fewer rocks littering the ground than when she first arrived, escorting her sister to her first visit with Lady Kay.

She moved once again to the eastern edge of the ruins where she planned to attract the attention of the Avatar and looked down at Romana with a smile. Crouching near her friend, she said, "I understand that you would not like to speak of your plans in front of the others, and I would also understand if you would rather not tell me, either." She smiled more broadly. "Dazidazidazi speaks truth, Romana need not tell. But Dazidazidazi would like no surprises coming from friends, yah? So maybe Romana can just tell Dazidazidazi if maybe there is something Romana might do that Dazidazidazi does not know Romana can do, yah? Then Dazidazidazi is less surprised by new thing, ok?"

The Heartwood
Bordertown
Sunset
Hasday, The Twenty-Second Day of the Month of Crown of Ice, 2623

Daxia, Mikal, Cesare, Darian, Longtooth, Bekkah, Dean, Kadri, Mikal and Romana


"It's about time ... isn't it."

"Aye ... the shadows from the walls have almost reached the tree line."

The mercenary set the front of his crossbow down upon the battlement stone, slipping his foot into the worn steel stirrup. With both hand he drew back the heavy braided string, setting in its nock. Drawing it back up he carefully laid a short stubby quarrel in place. He looked to his companion.

"Carnage. Tcha. It's time. Time to earn our coin, lad."

... elsewhere

He stood upon the roof of the Dragonstooth, both the center of town and its tallest building, an excellent vantage of everything except the top of the ruins themselves. They were ready. Below, in the courts, what womenfolk and younger ones left in the town were sheltered; the tavern its own little fortress keep within the walls; its own own iron portcullis dropped, its own heavy wooden doors closed and barred.

It even had its own little well. Just in case.

The sheriff ran his hand through his dark hair.

Beyond the town walls everyone knew what was coming.

That was not where his attention lay.

... elsewhere

The young woman wrinkled her nose, trying to find words.

"Throw cards into air, letting them fly this way and that ... and when .. when picked alls up, sometimes, one card, not there to be picked up ..."

She paused, looking out towards the Greenlands, the fel woods upon whose edge she was found.

"Looking for card ..."

... elsewhere

Blood dripped, it seeped, it pooled.

It stained the carpet. Crimson on white.

It would never come out.

He would need a new carpet.

Oh.

And a new Voice.

... elsewhere

She stood on her tip toes, a soft smile on her face. She stood like that because she wasn't anywhere as tall as he was, and he was such a ... guy. She adjusted his black surcoat, so it fell perfectly over his black tunic, made sure his dark steel pendent with the death rune upon its chain wasn't tangled or tussled. She then fell back on her heels, bouncing once, before adjusting the tail of his belt and making sure both cuffs of his black breeches were tucked properly into the tops of his tall black boots.

"Have fun clearing the fields, dear."

For her?

Tonight her Lady and she were going to dance.

... elsewhere

... unicorn ... the dark path ... time reversed ...

*shuffle*

... unicorn ... the dark path ... time reversed ...

*shuffle*

... unicorn ... the dark path ... time reversed ...

*shuffle*

... unicorn reversed ... chains ... swords ...

*shuffle*

... unicorn ... crown of ice ... time reversed ...

*shuffle*

Stop.

Pause.

Blink.

What?

... elsewhere

In the cold dusk air the horses whuffled, their breath frosting the air. Every now and then there was a jingle of barding, the ruff of stirrups and boot heels, the clomp of a hoof against the frozen ground as a destrier shifted its weight. Helms were tucked under one arm, hung from a horn, set upon a saddle front, because that was the last thing one put on.

Just before the charge.

There was only one thing missing.

He watched the far off treeline.

And waited for the sunset shadows to reach the Forest of Roth.

... upon the ancient temple ...

The manor was closed tight, not even a light from behind the solid oak shutters.

Atop the tower, one could look to the east.

It was odd ... and somehow fitting, that even this far away from their own lands behind mountains black, it was from the east that they would ride.

Even the Eye was there, bustling from crennelation to crennelation, a heavy book in his arms. this one was mostly empty ... but it wouldn't be for long. Lord Random was the only one truly bright and happy, it seemed, as he made notes, drew sketches, made little maps and diagrams with circles and arrows and a paragraph of perfectly written text for each one.

Behind them, She touched the far horizon.

Ahead of them, the tallest shadow, that of the Imperial tower, touched the closest of the darkness strewn trees.

Silence.

A heartbeat.

Then two.

Silence.

Their cry couldn't be heard, but it could be imagined, the sudden cawing of cows, that cacophony of startled, annoyed, angry noise. But they could be seen. A few hundred yards into the forest, from the canopy, a murder of black birds suddenly took flight.

There, again.

This time a bit closer.

Now it could be heard, faint, low, like a grumbling of thunder.

And then, when the shadows from temple and town swept across the open fields, like a storm wave upon an open beach, cresting, breaking curling, They stampeded from forest.

One couldn't count how many, for they were anything but a coordinated charge. In a chaos of fel chargers, surging, shifting, some ahead then falling behind, others criss crossing this way and that rode out from the woods they had stolen. Like a foul blanket they became shadows within shadows westward bound, like a deadly bucket of tar doused across the Bordertown fields.

The first reply came from the town, as a splash of fire and smoke arced forward. The emblazoned arrows left a trail of grey in their wake, sent out before the Riders were actually in range ... their targets the wagons that had been previously placed. It started small, but quickly they were ablaze - banishing the darkness in a ring about Bordertown ... marking the border between beyond harms way and the night's killing fields.

From the tower, those atop would have to wait for the riders to reach the base of the ruins before they could fire.

Like a deadly concave crescent, not measured in ones or ten or twenty fives ... but hundreds, the chaos Riders of Roth swept forward.

Bond not for the town ... but for the ruins.

And in the center, behind the initial charge, hoever ... was a smaller group, this one countable, perhaps in the fullhand, perhaps a little more, like an arrowhead flight of geese before their master.

He was taller, prouder, his red scarf trailing back behind him like a banner, loner than his horse. he carried no sword but a huge, curved double bladed axe, and it was if it swallowed what little light there was about him.

Not that that provided any cover. He would be so easy found.

He was the one mounted on the horse with brutal spikes and horns lancing out of its black coat, horns from its head, its neck, its shoulders and hindquarters. it's breath melted the cold air, a hint of fire there ... and his hooves danced with flames ... as did it's tail.

Behind him, at a more leisurely pace, was a figure upon a pale charger.

The wave of makeshift cavalry - for it was indeed makeshift; no rider was the same, their armour of various forms and colors and styles, their weapons ranging from spears to swords to axes to hammers, to maces and flails - held their cohesion for an unexpectedly long time.

The closer they got to the town ... first one .. then two ... then three ... broke ranks to harass the town. they fell, easily, to the crossbowmen waiting ... however this did not last; for so quickly did the chaos horde's northern flank disintegrate, deciding that the closer town would be a wonderful victim.

The southern flank held true, however ... until they stopped, sudden sharp, and for a moment startled, confused.

For they had also heard the horns.

Harsh horns, a call in the night, signal horns, disciplined.

Mohlkavin's Heavy Horse was no mad mob ... they hit the chaos riders hard, full formation, by complete surprise ... until something happened that would dearly please the gods of the East; the southern flank disintegrated into a free flowing grand melee ... superior numbers against superior order.

Thus it was that only a handful of the wave made it to the base of the tower ... and if Dayala fought with starlight, they brought fire ... clouds of black magic and red and orange, to clear a path to the top of the ruins.

A path up which Marin's honor guard drove upwards, at a break neck speed.

Followed by an Avatar and his hellsteed.

The pale rider, he had stopped at the edge of the burning carts.

Darian

The Hunter had rested until the first noises came to her ears, and then she was up, perched not between the crenallations but upon one, to spy down the length of the eastern field. Her cloak and hood and pack were left below on the stone floor where she had taken respite. Only her bow and quiver and belted weapons were at hand.

She knew her range with her own arrows, confident in their make and design. The ones from Dazi and gathered from the town were close enough for this Hunt. With the oncoming mass, it seemed it would be more difficult to not hit something.

She set an arrow to string but did not draw, not just yet. Her lips moved silently as her gold eyes sought out the first target to come within range. When it did, she drew back and let fly, drawing another arrow and nocking it with fluidity.

Daxia

She nodded to Romana her understanding. "Be safe, my friend," was all she said before moving to the spot she had chosen to watch the coming of Her setting... to watch the coming of the Chaos Riders... to watch for His Avatar.

As the shadows grew longer and longer, Mikal and Dean had made their way down from the tower, leaving Darian and Kadri and Bekkah and Cesare with Lord Random. From what she could see of the latter from her place on the ground, he appeared enthusiastically prepared to document every moment of this night.

As the first rumblings from the Forest were heard, the Dayalan prayed to her Lady in a soft whisper. "My Lady, guide Your daughter's hands tonight, that I may be Your instrument for restoring Order and righting the grievous wrong done to Time by Your enemy's curse."

And then Daxia watched and waited. She appeared patient, calm, confident... only her Lady knew what she was truly feeling, though the sight of the Avatar on his hellsteed did send a visible shiver through her; a shiver quickly suppressed.

Tashka had been right when she had said Daxia would instantly recognize the Avatar. Standing atop the ruins with her Temple surcoat over her armor, she settled her helm firmly on her head then drew her sword.

Who but a Dayalan would have a sword of Ironsilver?

She was ready.

And when the Avatar was close enough, when she could see him at the base of the ruins, she called upon her Lady.

"Dayala, rain down Your Wrath on the Avatar of the Eastern God of Carnage."

Who but a Dayalan would call on the Goddess of Order and Time to strike at Her enemies?

(is anything close to the tower?)

Cesare

He uses the cover at the top of the tower. No point in exposing himself until they are close. His daggers, his rocks, would gain momentum from this height but they are limitied by the strength he has to throw them. He must pick his moments, make them count.

The noise alerts him. Time. He waits a moment and then risks a look.

So many...

Heart thudding, he wonders if any of them will survive the night. Strangely that thought worries him much less than it would have before.

**We all have to die sometime, this is nothing compared with night after night after night**

His last thought goes to the two women below, their extraordinary courage in the face of the unspeakable. He grips his dagger. He'll make it count.

Kadri takes a look down - and many of the same thoughts go through her head. How had she talked herself into being holed up up here?

She takes range of those near the tower, both with her daggers - and with other matters in mind.

Bekkah

She hadn't really wanted to be up here. It seemed cowardly and not how a true Lady of Attera should act, but when she saw their enemy approach she knew that Dazi had been right.

She said a quick prayer, her eyes moving back and forth rapidly between the enemy and her sister. She finally broke away from the scene and moved around the tower quickly to look all around. She had said she'd help spot for the others, she fully intended to do that.

"Let me know how I can help." she said to any who could hear her atop the tower.

Mikal

As the carts burst into flame to light the scene and the horde breaks from the woods, he can easily make out the Avatar. He wonders briefly who the pale rider is, but as he has become accustomed to, thought like that are mostly for after the fight is done.

He stands at the base of the tower, near Daxia, the tower door within running distance, though it would be a tight race to get inside and re-bolt it before any enemies could follow him in. Lifting his crossbow, he fires as they reach the edge of his range, targeting the group around the Avatar. He does a quick mental judgement of their speed so he can get a rough idea how many bolts he can get off before he will need to drop the crossbow on it's strap and draw his sword and main-gauche. As they close, he fires again and again until they are too close.

Turning to Daxia as he fires and as she finishes her call for Dayala's aid, he says, "Nice of them to bring so many targets, isn't it? I don't suppose, now that you've pointed yourself out to him that I can convince you to join the warm comradeship of our fellow at the top of the tower? I understand there is a nice, refreshing breeze out of the east this time of night up there."

(OOC - Wolf - How long do spells last? IOW, if I use them now can I expect them to last thru the battle?)

Daxia

Unwilling to take her eyes off the Avatar, knowing that even the mighty Wrath of her Goddess would not stop him... but with some luck, it might slow Him down, Daxia grinned... though there was a grimness to it that would not have been there a mere fullhand of days ago.

"Remind me on Midwinters Night that I value your sense of humor, Mikal; it will make the decision about renewing our Contract so much easier for me," she said to him. "But you know I can't fight that from on top of the tower. I must stand my ground, here."

She spared him a quick glance, less than a heartbeat, before her eyes turned back to the Avatar and his hellsteed.

"Sometimes you do not have a choice."

Mikal

He grins back. "I will do that."

He then fires again and adds, "It's my job to provide options. It is your job to choose. Once those two things are done, the time for choices has passed."

Dean

Dean glances at the top of the tower to where Lady Bekkah stands and nods. He doesn't know if she sees him but it doesn't matter. He has pledged and it is finished. He says a quick prayer, clears his mind, draws his sword and steels himself against the first of the small group heading towards the tower.

Daxia

She nodded to indicate she'd heard him, but then said softly, perhaps heard or perhaps not, "No matter how many options, sometimes you simply don't have a choice."

Cesare

He risks another look, this time taking in a bit more detail though they are not yet quite close enough for his daggers - though he is ready.

He looks over to Bekkah and the others.

"Keep an eye on the one on the pale horse. Something tells he may be more significant that we think."

In fact is he were likely to be the main target and it was important for him to survive, dressing someone else as the target would be one way to achieve that.

Kadri;

She looks over, sharing a glance with Cesare.

"He might."

She nods.

"It would be one way I might do it ..."

And in addition to her other observations she tries for a close observation of the rider on the pale horse.

"Can he be reached by arrow?"

She asks the hunter.

Darian

"Nay," she said simply after a glance over.

She kept her eyes on those quickly approaching Daxia, Mikal and Dean. There were her first targets.

The Heartwood
Bordertown
Sunset
Hasday, The Twenty-Second Day of the Month of Crown of Ice, 2623

Daxia, Mikal, Cesare, Darian, Longtooth, Bekkah, Dean, Kadri, Mikal and Romana

Dragonstooth Tavern

"You look happy ..."

The innkeeper smiled.

"Fool blonde bought a couple handfull of crockery steins; you know the one we get cheap from McGregor's out by Brementown? For gold too. Nice fancy profit to be making at this time, of all times, ja?"

The Temple Ruins

The pale rider was cast in dull shimmers of orange and saffron, as before him the carnage his Lord reveled in began to stain the frozen twilight ground before him. Even Mohlkavin's Heavy Horse, driving through their ranks like a pick through butter would soon bog down; a cavalry charge always has to end sometime - it cannot go on forever - and then like a swarm pf carrion creatures they would turn upon him and tear those disciplined ranks apart.

It was now time to stop the charge, to turn the tide.

He straightened himself, drew himself up, and if he spoke, of course he was too far away to hear. as those atop the ruins had time to rest, plan and garner their power ... so did he.

Sacrifices? Oh they were here a plenty. Not like before, not like in the Forest Glade those many days before.

Atop the ruins, to the side, all alone upon her outcropping ... as she saw the pale rider begin ... she too, her long black cloak snapping in the cold evening wind, the sound loud, carrying across the temple top, her cloak still up, Romana stood.

Five made the crest, as about them the trees and underbrush were ablaze; there was no need for any light or illuminating magics any more - read and orange and yellw, the pop and crackle of wood, the scent of ash and charcoal all painted the top of the Dayalan fortress in ever shifting light and shadow. It danced, it played, as the smoke made the battlefield below no longer discernible, as between smoke and shadow it became hard to tell between foe and friend and trick of light.

In a general wedge four of Marin's darkest charged three; and in their center was the hellsteed and his rider. All were bedecked in steel and darker and an unholy howling coursed like a banshee's wail as the air passed over their cruel weapons. Maces bedecked with spikes, swords with edges cut and notched and serrated and one carried a hammer - no carpenters tool but a brutal pick like tool designed for piercing through armor and coming out the otherside.

Two by two they flanked their current master, dogs following the wolf, the leader of a pack held together only by those who kill the most.

It must have been the trickery of the light, the unpredictable zig and zag of their charge, for Darian's first two arrows to drive harmlessly into the smoke and fire ... the lead outrider safely making it to the top of the ruins. Two more arrow were sent on their deadly arc and they hit true. From the shoulder and leg of the next in rank charger they now stood, like crazy porcupine quills.

The rider didn't even slow.

It took all of Mikal's skil to block the blow from the first of the lead outriders. drossing hisshortsword and main gauche against the haft of a mace;for a moment all he could see was darksteel spikes and the huge bone shattering ball they were attached to. Worse, the rider had the momentum of a charge, the advantage of height, and as he pressed away the foul attack he was lofted into the air. On the good side it distanced him from his opponent, on the bad side he was on his backside next to the well and would have to go through the same brutal attack again ... unless something changed.

Dean, however - perhaps bolstered by his commitment to his Lady of Mercy or perhaps just a bit of beginner's luck - set his stance against the hammer. His feet skidded in the stone and dirt as he was pushed back perhaps a foot but still stading strong.

The Squire's shield now had a fist sized hole in it.

The rider heeled his destrier around, to stay in melee with the dean, drawing his hammer high as steel backed by Lord Rames' will slashed upwards, biting through armor and leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

The outrider just laughed.

It didn't matter to him whose blood was spilled, as long as blood was spilled.

For Daxia, it was the hellsteed that thundered down her, like an avalanche, and she could see the power in the backswing of the axe, the perfectly deadly team of horse and rider that would back the fel strength of the incoming blow.

She could only look up at him.

" ... shamshell'ah'ahnnakash'kaer'ker'kaer'ah'hysthahna'kammash!"

The wordscut across the battlefield like ice, they could be heard everywhere.

Daxia could only look up to him ... and then ... beyond him.

It was that stench of sulphur and brimstone ... that they had all tasted before. The sudden sucking in of air - even drawing flames back don the temple ramparts to the Bordertown Fields, and then the sudden outburst scattering debris and fire from the forbidden epicenter - from the place the pale rider summoned his Friend ... summoned his demon. It rose, it towered, higher than the temple by three, a shadow of twisted crimson. Massive, deadly, its crown was that of a blood red mushroom, certainly poisonous, with a dark black circular maw that was abyssmal deep. Its body was a pulsating shaft of magic and flesh, as if someone had ripped out anothers throat and somehow it still lived. It split open ... with a rib cage empty of all organs, but the bony ribs writhed and twisted like living hungry things. Misshapen arms and shoulders hanted above and there we no hands, just whips of magical energy chaoticall slashing here and there - where they intersected the ground it was like a horrible plow, digging deep and leaving a crevasse in its wake. Where it accedentally hit one of the Town's corner towers ... there was an explosion of stone and no more tower.

The Hellsword of Marin ... not a hellsword but The Hellsword ... drove his axe down upon the very small Dayalan. The thorn in his side. And he screamed ...

It was not a batte scream, nor one of victory or slaying.

Stars were everywhere.

Like a cyclone, like dandelions scattered in the wind, like a scattering of diamons falling like rain he was impaled, surrounded, caught. Where the stars pathed through him they came out trailing blood in small bursts of flesh sinew and shattered bits of darksteel plate. There, for a brilliant vengeful heartbeat.

It stopped the Avatar of Marin cold.

So that when his blade came down, all it did was slam hard into the Dayalan's ribs ... the two simply trading blows.

The demon turned ... this was interesting ... here were the sacrifices promised him.

" ... shamshell'al'ahnnakash'ah'lhahrhonsha'kammash!"

The demon stopped ... his deadly arms sending paths of destruction across the battlefield below haphazardly, unconsciously, without cognative direction.

The pale rider started, he stood. Those were not his words ...

Those were Romana's.

The demon roared, as if asking, as if demanding ...

The girl tossed back her hood and her long hair flew out into the night.

Long white hair.

" ... shamshell'al'ahnnakash'ah'Rhomanishkh'al'lhahrhonsha'al'Khylyrishkatsarinish'kammash!"

The demon paused. Completely still.

The farthest outrider, the one untouched, upon the top of the temple rins, wheeled his howser around. His horrible sword was so quickly scabardded as he drew up a crossbow, his attention snared, focused, upon that little, exposed, rock outcropping.

Dragonstooth Tavern

Dressed-in-Black took a step.

... crackle ...

Dressed-in-Black stopped. Hard. Quick. Immediate. Dressed-in-Black knelt down, the fingers of her free hand dusting, searching, and so easily finding. Bits and pieces of broken crockery, scattered here and there, like a farmer might broadcast a field with seed.

Dressed-in-Black whispered a single curse.

" ... shesh ..."

(OOC - Wolf - Never got an answer to my question on Aug 20th about how long spells last. Had intended to use some prior to melee but wanted to know if they lasted throughout the battle or if I had to be careful about timing when to use them so they'd not expire in the middle.)

it depends on the spell ... something like the Dayalan starstrike is instant, one use ... common battle magics last 15 minutes/1 fight ... most divine spells (like a sword enhancement) are one use or one hit ... they are designed as wrath of god hit hard once spells.