Demura wields Requiem, Song of the Firebird.

Cassandra wields Mercy, a polished diamondplate longsword.

Richard wields Bedside Manner, a diamondplate bar mace.

Mabelle wields Frosting Spreader - a brightly colored wide seax.

Amari wields Wildly Inappropriate, a bold diamondplate blade with a white heart pommel.

Ahven looks sidelong at Xandrine and smirks. Well, she looks to her side, and up.

Cristoph wields a sword made of swords.

It's the drums they hear first. Scouts have reported the coming of Azazel's legions, but it's the low throbbing boom of the drums as the legions march that announces their presence before they are seen. The vibrations in the earth, tremors from endless footfalls and massive beasts, and in the far distance the plumes of smoke. They are burning a path across the Oathlands, leaving nothing alive, and refugees have run fleeing past Artshall, hoping that Laurent might buy them time. A bastion in the Oathlands, when so many other domains have already fallen.

And then the legion begins to come out of the treeline. It just doesn't stop. Thousands upon thousands of shards, men and women that once were human, but now could never be mistaken by such. Twisted by the abyss, even if they still wield weapons and wear armor they had in life, or stripped from the dead. And with them come a thousand different kind of monstrosities in the lines. Minotaurs, ettins, ogres, a golem made of black stone at least a hundred feet tall, beholders... and so, so, many flying demons.

It's enough to test the resolve of any force, and the legion creeps closer and closer. But they have some little time before they creep into the outer range of Laurent's siege weaponry.

((The pre-battle round, can pose and anyone can do a social check to try to prepare rally the troops, any social skill, or leadership, war, which will add to the army throughout. No damage this round for failures, only the crushing judgment of your peers.))

Richard checks intellect and medicine at hard. Richard fails.

Demura checks command and war at hard. Demura fails.

Cristoph checks command and leadership at hard. Cristoph is successful.

Jael checks command and leadership at hard. Jael fails.

Mabelle checks composure and leadership at hard. Mabelle is successful.

Lucie checks command and leadership at hard. Lucie is successful.

Amari checks command and leadership at hard. Amari is successful.

Cassandra checks command and war at hard. Cassandra is successful.

Seeing movement in her peripheral vision somewhere far, far, far down below her shoulder, Xandrine looks over looks over at Ahven with a returned smirk. As she waits to be rallied by her social betters, she jeers beneath the clamor: "I bet I kill more of them than you do," with a boastful denial of the dangers that face them that would make her family proud. This idiocy is for you, fam.

Artur checks charm and leadership at hard. Artur is successful.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Cristoph before departing.

Jael gleaming in her polished armor, Jael stands upon the wall, her expression hard and set, her mouth tight with determination. Her light blue eyes glitter in the sun like ice, and then seem to shade to gray as the flying beasts turn the day to twilight. Her reaction to the hoards that come, and come, and come, burning everything in their path isn't awe. It isn't fear. It's rage, an anger that lights her eyes and curls her mouth into a snarl. "We are going to kill every. last. one. of those things." Needless to say, the display is not inspiring to the people around her.

Somewhere along the process of getting triage lines effectively set up, Richard forgets some details. So there is some chaos in trying to prepare the healer's chambers for those soon-to-be wounded by the onslaught of Azazel's forces. The medical knight has a frown etched on his face as he realizes it, rubbing his forehead with consternation. "No, don't do that! Get those beds to the side furthest from the walls! Do you want people to get catapulted?" So he's unable to actually set up the process effectively while he's putting out fires of his own making.

Artur draws rein and flips the visor of his helm up, "This isn't Farhaven. Dammit, Venture. Where have you taken us??"

With the new construction of Artshall, the double walls lined with towers, it is exactly where you will find Mabelle, on the wall, looking down in horror as thousands of blackened creatures roam outside her home, threatening it, again. Mabelle is wearing her most colorful dress. Is it a statement of fashion? Maybe. Is it a prism of colors so the soldiers can see she is right there with them on the battlefield amongs all the black, you can be sure of it. "ARTSHALL!", she calls, "We're not doing this again! Fight for your home!".

Ahven is in the line, as she should be. She gasps at Xandrine, as if they have not done this a half dozen times before. "No, you *won't*." She snaps her gaze back to the approaching horde, eyes flicking around and mouth moving, silently. Is she....counting?

Cassandra is not here as a Legate of the Faith. She is here as a daughter of Laurent. There is no Faith Militant with her. She is just a woman, at right now, she is an experienced wartime commander. She walks down the line of Laurnet ranged artillery, checking the men to standby for range to release. Her face is still the same stern look that she's always had, however. "Do not loose until they are range. I want a cascade of fire in waves. Three launch, then three more. Crush them by the volley!" she barks out, keeping an eye on how close the horde is getting. "Gloria watch over us as the darkness come. Let us stand righteous in your grace and the find the courage to push back against the black." is a muttered prayer for not only herself, but those here.

The sound of a slowly released deep breath might be heard from others, those nearby Demura - the Lyonesse Marquessa - over the sound of the approaching drums. In hand is her long spear, gleaming in mahogany and rubicund, ready to take the fight to the enemy. The women looks around, places a fist over her heart and bows respectfully to Cristoph. She's not feeling up to shouting. She's quiet as she watches the approach.

The demons are at the gate, the drums of war are sounding through the air. Cristoph Laurent is not upon the wall of his home with the others, but in front with the troops waiting to break the initial wave of bloodshed. He sits upon Tavalu, leaning forward as if he's speaking some words to her while they wait. He's tense, his hand on his sword. Amazingly, fantastically, while this is happening a messenger arrives for Cristoph. His helmet is off, so his brief expression of absolute surprise can be witnessed by all around him. He opens it, scans the lines and ultimately hands it back. "Please get inside the walls," he tells them. "The messengers really can find you anywhere," he tells Tavalu.

With this moment past, he raises his voice to the gathered troops. "TO THE PEOPLE OF ARTSHALL. WE WILL HOLD THE OATHLANDS. WE WILL HOLD ARTSHALL. WE WILL MAKE THEM BLEED FOR THIS TRESPASS. READY YOURSELVES."

Lucie Laurent leads a troop of knights. In normal times, they would be out in the countryside, doing knightly things from horseback. Since these aren't really normal times, they are instead posted up along a wall. She turns to her various companions and proclaims with a sudden grin, "Going to have to ask a few of you for a boost to even get near hitting the head of that big one." She wanders on amid them, giving such encouragement, as if it is all another adventure ahead.

House Redire arrived well ahead of the demons in the early morning, as the mist over the river was burning away in the dawn light. Pouring out of the north, from the Shadowood, a column of men and women in tabards of green, white and black, horse and... stranger things. Bigger things. Way too BIG things. Things that break and bend the trees under them as they emerge into the fields and pastures of the valley. Massive black bears, bristling boars tromp along next to the cavalry horses, and from the waters comes the strangest sight of all. Mammoth aquatic hedgehogs? No, can't be. The beasts pull themselves onto the shore on stout legs with claws that dig furrows into the muddy earth. They're turtles. Turtles large enough that they both have been mounted with ballista, and bristle with men and elf sitting on their shells with pikes on their shoulders.

From the marching formations a draft-horse sized grey squirrel bounds, with Amari improbably clinging to his back. When she arrives in the keep, she looks a little jostled but fine. Fine enough that she issues orders and gets the Redire army and all its unusually large animals into a proper defensive position. It's only then she rides up to the Duke, and as gracefully as she can, tumbles down from her squirrel. "My Duke. House Redire stands ready."

Ahven cheers at Cristoph's words!

There are larger dragons, certainly, but that's grading on a scale when 'easily larger than a very large barn' can be described as moderate, and the vast majority of those present have never seen a dragon - or expected to see one - let alone this one. For those who have, however, Tavalu is both recognizable and *markedly* different. She's heavily scarred, and some of those scars look as though they may have come from large chains, rather than weapons, but where previously her scales were dulled and unhealthily gray, with only streaks of brilliant silver, now the silver has fully eclipsed it all. Light plays off of her, as if she were herself made of the actual metal, and her silverish eyes, too, gleam. As Cristoph speaks, she shifts just a little in place. Just a little. Can dragons be nervous. Surely not.

She spreads her scarred wings wide, then leaps straight up into the air with a powerful downbeat that threatens to send anyone nearby to the ground. This is why she is not standing close enough to them to do that, presumably. As she gains height, she lets out a roar of words most of them won't understand. Up, up. Then she banks, one wing tipping lower and toward Artshall. Hesitation, and then a second word, loud and snarled.

There's the sudden prickling sensation of heat, and then a stream of white hot fire leaves her jaws as she paints a circle of fire around the city's walls. It's well away to avoid risk of catching the walls themselves, but clearly the intent is to force the shards to go through that particular wall before they reach the actual ones.

Tavalu says in Draconic, "I am Tavalu, youngest daughter of Skylord Corusadin, sister of Cynara the Dreamer!"

Tavalu says in Draconic, "...BURN."

Mabelle's face wears an utter look of confusion at all the big animals and the balistas with the turtles. Backwards. But then she sees Amari on a giant squirrel and her eyebrow seperates from her hair back into position and all makes sense now.

There's quite a bit of excitement among Laurent soldiers at seeing their duke ride a dragon. Somewhat less enthusiasm for the swarm of large-dog sized bees that are forming up int he skies in what looks like preparation to defend Artshall, even after repeatedly being reassured that the dire bees are on the side of House Laurent. The constant loud buzz is overshadowed by the booming sound of the approaching legion and the footfalls of the hulking behemoths in their ranks, as they start to slowly come into extreme range. As the siege weapons of Artshall begin to fire, the abyssal golems and giants among Azazel's horde begin flinging back boulders in turn. A large apiary is utterly crushed, and now it becomes personal for the Laurents.

They come on into arrow range, and there's a mad charge of shards. Winged demons, lightly fast, fly in to harass the walls of Laurent, trying to savage defenders to provide cover for their horde to cross the range.

((Round 1: All can do any checks at hard, if you are using magic, note it. Damage will be assigned for any failed roll. Crits can cover for anyone else's damage and cancel out a failed roll.))

Jael checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jael marginally fails.

Artur grins as madness erupts around him and on THIS side of the wall. Giant bees, a bloody DRAGON, and a ... yes, that's a big gray riding squirrel. It has happened at last. Artur has stepped into a fairytale. He lets out a whoop and puts his spear in the air. Let's do this!

Mabelle checks mana and manipulation at hard. Mabelle is successful.

Artur checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Artur is successful.

Demura checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Demura fails.

Cassandra checks command and war at hard. Cassandra is successful.

Richard checks intellect and medicine at hard. Richard fails.

Xandrine checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Xandrine marginally fails.

Lucie checks command and leadership at hard. Lucie is successful.

Ahven checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Ahven is successful.

Cristoph checks command and leadership at hard. Cristoph is successful.

Jael had posted herself on the walls with her bow because she's always been an archer, and that had been her intended path. But as the hoard descends on the walls, rage is making her hands shake too hard to hold her bow, and, as the flyers close around the walls, she drops it and draws her sword. "No," she snarls, her voice low and dangerous. When one of the winged flyers sails in close to harass the walls then zips out of reach before she can get in a return hit, she mounts the crenulation, eyes blazing, maybe trying to get a little bit more height to try again.

Demura checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Demura is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Demura does not take a permanent wound.

Richard checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Richard is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Richard does not take a permanent wound.

Richard checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Richard is successful.

Richard remains capable of fighting.

When Xandrine sees Ahven begin to count, she reflexively and aggressively attempts to count faster. She loses track at about three as her gaze locks onto the approaching Redire army. Sure, the dragon is -- well, it's a lot, honestly. She's just not processing that for now, beyond a cheer that is REALLY LOUD as she tries to cover how confused about it she is. Her cheer turns into a battle cry as the battle breaks and she unsheathes her ... tiny little knives. Time to get so, so messy. "I'm gonna get _so_ many," she insists, too busy continuing to boast to Ahven to actually make a good showing as the battle begins to unfold. The other problem with being tall is what a great _target_ you are, and she ends up ducking with a yelp at the diving demons.

As the first forces of the enemy come swooping in, Richard is trying his best to carry the wounded off into an area where they can be patched up and hopefully sent to fight further for Artshall, but as he's carrying a wounded soldier, claws come in, digging into his side, toppling both the knight and the soldier he was carrying. He twists in clear pain, rising to his feet and trying to carry the soldier the rest of the way, a sheet of blood apparent where the claws have dug into the metal of his armor. Finally, he draws his mace, letting someone else take care of that while he looks for the creature that has wounded him.

[MAGIC: THINK AGAIN] As Tavalu launches herself into the sky, and Cristoph is taken along with her, the ring of fire blazes high, giant bees buzz, and many, many large stones are flung from the catapults House Laurent has recently assembled for this momentous occasion. His voice raises about the din, somehow impossibly loud. It echoes across the throngs of fighting soldiers and monsters, "MONSTERS, DEMONS. TURN NOW AND FLEE, OR DIE IN DRAGON FIRE AND BY THE BLADES OF ARTSHALL." More practically, he leans forward and grabs the harness rigged around the magnificent scarred silver dragon, "Can we swing to the wall? Divert the winged ones?"

Demura drops the spear from its upright hold to land in her other palm as she readies herself to join the swarm of Laurent-loyals and... dire bees? A giant squirrel? A Dragon? The buzzing is a bit overwhelming to her ears, but she surges forward, spear aiming toward the Abyssal creatures threatening the world. It's a fierce initial clash, one which leaves her dropped to one knee, sucking in air as something takes a chunk out her side.

There is a LOT to take in, in a very short amount of time. Luckily, Ahven doesn't have time to stress about processing the siege turtles or dire bees. but she manages to swing her glaive over Xandrine's ducking head and chop into the shoulder joint (and hopefully thus the wing) of a swooping nightmare. "One!!" She crows.

Amari checks perception and animal ken at hard. Amari is successful.

[Magic] Mabelle's gaze rise up to the sky and simply beams at the swarm of bees flying overhead. One Apiary is crushed, she's not worried. She told them to leave ALLL THEM BEES. The bees create very large shadows and Mabelle's hands spread wide, she concentrates. If anything, the abyss brings with it abundance of shadows. She pulls them in with her, rolling them on her arms, weaving and weaving, making herself a little shadow sweater and in a single swift movement, Mabelle unleashes her arms forward. Dozens of shadow tentacles release upon the battlefield. They lift the shards, toss them around, bury them in the ground, tear them in half. "I TOLD YOU DIRE BEES ARE REAL", she calls up to the soldiers, "Do not fear them! BEES HAVE ALWAYS BE KIND TO YOU! JOIN THEM!", she looks at Amari, "Find the Queen!".

And on the heels of that whoop, Artur and Venture plunge into the fray, laying about himself with a smile that borders on manic and grows more ichor and bloodsmeared by the minute. He spies Richard getting bodied by demons and digs heels into Venture's sides. The horse surges towards Richard, stabbing the beast as he rides by. He winces at Cristoph's bellow, "Ach, right in my ear, man." He digs a finger in his ear and wiggles it. Ringing now. Great.

Lucie steps up to the fore of her group on the battlements as the winged demons come and she calls along, "Steady now. Be precise. Keep your feet planted or you'll end up swinging at the air and stumbling." She draws her own sword to join in on any demon-smacking as necessary, and that little section of the wall is all right. She spots Demura being injured somewhere further along, and after another nearby demon is dispatched, starts to edge that way through the melee.

There is a moment of hesitation that Cassandra sees her brother mounting a dragon to ride. "He always did get all of the fun." Is her observation, then quickly turning back to the artillery. "LOOSE!" The first trios of catapult's launch their payload, massive stones being hurtled through the air. A moment later, another trio looses, then another. Onward and onward. By the time the last trio has released, the first three are just about ready to fire again. And again, she has to pause at the....giant bees. "They're much larger than I expected. Unnervingly so."

Tavalu's turn is sharper this time. It's a good thing Cristoph has something to hold on to (and something to hold him), as she flies nearly sideways, then beats the air again with her wings. One. Two. It takes her up at a sharp angle, into that mess of flying demons. The force is enough to scatter those initial ones. Her jaws crunch two more that get to close. Then she looks up up and that stream of fire comes again, cutting a path of flame through every demon unfortunate enough to be in front of her.

The battle has begun in earnest, as the siege weapons of Laurent rend huge holes in the lines of the demonic legion, but their endless numbers make the gaps as more and more rush in. Swarms of arrows fly up towards the defenders and down from Artshall walls, as dire bees rush down stinging and tangling with shards, while constantly being swatted by the hulking larger monsters. Much of the battlefield is aflame by Cristoph's dragon, as numerous winged demons seem to sense the threat and dive towards him. The intensity of the thrown boulders increases, and beholders begin to rise from their ranks, raining fire and lightning down upon the battlements. Demura and Richard are badly wounded, by swarms of arrows and a lightning blast from a beholder respectively.

((Victory Points: 62. Enemy offensive turn, will be mass checking luck, and then failures have to do defensive rolls to avoid damage.))

Apostate has called for a check of luck at normal.
TIE: Artur is successful. Xandrine is successful.
TIE: Cristoph is successful. Ahven is successful.
TIE: Demura is successful. Mabelle is successful. Lucie is successful.
TIE: Seleni marginally fails. Richard marginally fails. Tavalu marginally fails.
TIE: Amari fails. Cassandra fails.
Botch! Jael fails completely.

Cassandra checks luck at normal. Cassandra marginally fails.

Jael checks dexterity and dodge at daunting. Jael is successful.

Cassandra checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Cassandra marginally fails.

Amari checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Amari is successful.

Sure, she'll find the queen! Amari is everywhere. It's a benefit of being mounted on a giant squirrel. She's glimpsed for a moment as the beast rattle-scrabbles along the tile roof of Artshall's favorite inn. Then she's darting through an alley, and then sproinging onto the ramparts to encourage the fighters. And encourage she does. As the demons course in, the mammoth woodland beasts stir. If they looked cute before, they look decidedly less now. The dire black bears lumber to the walls and begin slapping and clawing down the demons trying to climb in, the boars stamp and squeal as they're lined up against the gates for a charge. The turtles, well, apologies to the Laurents, but they make themselves comfortable where they like - crushing walls, and collapsing some of the buildings where they hiss and snap at the air. The ballista atop them begin to fire their projectiles at anything big that pops its head over the ramparts.

Richard checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Richard marginally fails.

Richard checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Richard is successful.

Richard remains capable of fighting.

Artshall weathers the initial storm, though now the unending swarm of shards are beginning to reach the walls. The first siege ladders go up, even as the Laurent defenders are inflicting catastrophic losses upon the shards that come into range. But they come on, with suicidal fervor, nearly indifferent to losses, and climbing over the bodies of their fallen to reach the walls. While the flying foes have been winnowed, more and more are showing to replace them, and the first shards are managing to get onto the walls despite the defenders best efforts.

((Round 2: 62 Victory Points. Same as first round, any check you can justify at hard, damage assigned on failures.))

Jael checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jael marginally fails.

Xandrine checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Xandrine is successful.

Demura checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Demura fails.

Mabelle checks mana and manipulation at hard. Mabelle is successful.

Lucie checks command and leadership at hard. Lucie is successful.

Cristoph checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Cristoph fails.

Amari checks perception and animal ken at hard. Amari is successful.

Ahven checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Ahven is successful.

Cassandra checks command and war at hard. Cassandra is successful.

Richard checks intellect and medicine at hard. Richard marginally fails.

Xandrine's head pops up from beneath the swing of Ahven's glaive just in time to get splattered. Her initial protest, "I get half--!" is immediately cut off. FINE. FINE!! Ahven gets full credit for the first, leaving Xandrine bracing for another go. She lunges, carving into the space swept clean by Ahven's glaive with the flash of her knives. "Mine!!" she crows as she catches up, one to one, only for Ahven to swing out as well. DAMNIT.

Demura begins to fall back, looking over to Lucie as she makes her way closer, but these arrows just DO NOT let up! How did the Abyss even GET so many arrows? Someone kill the Abyssal fletchers. A spear isn't a very good shield. But it is a good spear, and so she does attempt to stab some more shards.

[Magic: utility] Mabelle locates that queen. There is a reason she wanted the Queen. Beekeepers know, the Queens has the most deadly stings, enough to kill other bees. Crystalline eyes stay upon that queen as Mabelle begins to.. recreate her in shadow. And another. And another. Suddenly there is a swarm of QUEEN DIRE BEES, and they are headed to the walls. Whoever thought they are climbing their way into Artshall, they are wrong. There is also another wall, but "THEY ARE WRONG. YOU ARE NOT GETTING INTO ARTSHALL". There seems to be some twisted pleasure she takes in jabbing weird creatures with shadow.. dire bees.

It's a really, really, really good thing that this harness exists. Because Cristoph is testing the limits of how well it will hold him and his armor. In the moment that Tavalu turns nearly sideways, he unsheathes his sword and swings in broad sweeping arcs through the demons that are on that side of them. But this is not how they teach knights how to fight when they're going through their training. He doesn't quite fumble the sword so much as he fumbles himself and ends up overreached and stretched too far. Too close to danger, razor sharp claws daring to render armor and the flesh underneath it. It's not quite so easy to pull himself back to the harness as he planned on it being. "This is just as hard as it looks," he grits out, fire and demon chunks flying past them.

[MAGIC - Furyborn Rage] Jael is standing right there atop the wall, just a big, shiny damned target. She attracts and enormous amount of fire from the shards that descend on Artshall, but somehow, somehow she manages to dodge it all. Her eyes have really become dangerous now, and her whole body is shaking with barely contained rage. "This is my home," she growls, as one of the flyers, also seeing an easy target, sweeps towards her. What it doesn't expect, however, is what she does next. With a wordless, primal scream that rips itself out of her body, Jael jumps several feet in the air and tackles it. Both of them go plummeting towards the ground, with Jael trying, and failing, to stab it the whole way down. "THIS! IS! MY! HOME!"

Artur checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Artur fails.

Ahven would probably share the first one, but there's not a lot of time to debate. Each squealing or screaming body they manage to cut and shove out of their space is replaced by another - and then there are the shadow bees. "Three!?" she yells, and then takes a mouthful of splashed ichor for her trouble. Those tiny fuckin knives. They make such a mess.

Once upon a time, Tavalu told Cristoph she would take it slow, that she could be far faster. That was before she regained her strength. Now she's a streak of silver and fire. Most of the demons miss her outright. A few manage to briefly claw at her before the force of her movement sends them spinning wildly, but their claws skitter harmlessly off scales. The last flicks of flame leave Tavalu's jaws, and then she makes another sound, alien yet recognizable. She laugh, a moment of pure joy in so much death.

Then she reaches the apex of her upward momentum. Her wings spread a little wider. Dip. Her wings suddenly fold and she *dives*, down and down and down before smashing into a particularly large demon. Their momentum carries them further, jaws both locking on each other, and now the blood in the air is Tavalu's as much as the attackers.

Venture tries, she really does, but she sits her haunches down a moment to late and he is clotheslined out of the saddle hitting the ground with an ugly crunch.

A winged demon screams down at Amari as she and her squirrel bounce and scramble across the rooftops. It looks as though it has the perfect angle of attack, but it's as if the fuzzy maniac has a sixth sense for airborne predators. Hunk the squirrel skids, twists, presses ihis clawed feet to the slope of the roof and launches himself into the sky. The demon sails on, and is filled with arrows from the elven archers and then further clobbered by a dire bee.

It's almost majestic. That leap. That fuzzy tail and legs out out for aerodynamic lift.

Then he drops to the cobblestoned lane below with a thud and keeps going, Amari no doubt shook up, but fine enough to start yelling - something. Maybe she's laughing. Or crying. It's hard to tell. Whatever she's doing rouses the entire menagerie to further violence. Where the demons try to climb in, or swoop down, they find claw and fang to greet them.

That 'he' being clotheslined is Artur. Hopefully no one saw.

The Wyrmguard looks like he's been barbecued by an electric oven. Richard has been 'beheld', and that means getting zapped just as he starts to recover from getting flipped over by a demon. With a nod to Artur, his avenger, the haze of pain and the discomfort of charred skin give the knight a sort of detachment to his surroundings, the Wyrmguard stumbling forward, then back once. He recovers quickly enough, and instead of pursuing combat, he goes back to his original goal of trying to rescue people and put them in a healer's room to get checked up. At some point he tries to carry an armored fellow but he manages to be struck by something as he moves to the healer's quarters as it hinders his goal of rescuing yet another person. Today: not his day.

It was one of the flying imps that caught Cassandra off guard, tearing into her and the armor she wear. Crying out in surprise, she doesn't realize the gash that rent through the back of her armor, spinning slashing downward, cleaving apart the imp's head and wing in the process. Panting and now bloodied, he looks back to the artillery. "Don't stop firing! We DO NOT stop firing!" But she can't help but grimace at the pain. Whatever bleeding is happing under her layers, she'll have to worry about later. "Gloria, give me strength now."

Xandrine says, "What?!You miscounted!" Xandrine argues as Ahven claims three. Ahven is right. Glaives have a big swing. Xandrine is just behind, and mad about it."

Lucie forges ahead along the wall with her group of knights to a spot where the shards are threatening to overwhelm it. "Push them back!" she calls, as if it really needed saying. Her own sword is drawn and used as needs be, but her focus is for the moment on directing soldiers. She calls to Demura, "I wish you joy of the day, Marquessa! Are you all right?"

The fight becomes more difficult by the sheer number of the enemy contesting the air, and swarms of thousands of imps fly out to drop stones and weapons onto Laurent soldiers from below. The amount of imps outnumber even the bees, which doesn't seem particularly fair, but demonic legions have never been overburdened by a sense of fair play. A dozen ogres reach the main gate carrying a gigantic ram, bringing it against the gate time and again, while hundreds of shards have made it atop the walls trying to swarm over the defenders. The imps continue raining down fire, seeming not to particularly care whether they hit friend or foe.

((Enemy attack turn, 93 Victory Points.))

Apostate has called for a check of luck at normal.
Cassandra is successful.
Xandrine is successful.
TIE: Cristoph is successful. Jael is successful. Richard is successful.
TIE: Mabelle is successful. Amari is successful. Lucie is successful.
TIE: Demura marginally fails. Seleni marginally fails. Ahven marginally fails.
Tavalu fails.
Botch! Artur fails completely.

Cassandra checks luck at normal. Cassandra marginally fails.

Ahven checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Ahven is successful.

Demura checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Demura is successful.

Artur checks dexterity and dodge at daunting. Artur marginally fails.

Artur sticks a gauntleted hand in the air: thumbs up. He's still in the land of the living. For now. No Gwenna wrath.

A small swarm of imps is picking on Artur, probably drawn by the problems he has had with his horse. It's demonic nature, really. They look for openings. On the ground, the shards are being punished mercifully for their charge, but the amount of dead is finally giving them ramps to get up the walls. The ogres continue at the gates, and beholders as a group are attempting to chase down and attack Tavalu and Cristoph, seeing them as a key threat.

((OOC: Round 3, 93 Victory Points. Still same difficulty at hard for checks))

Demura checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Demura fails.

Jael checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jael is successful.

Richard checks intellect and medicine at hard. Richard is successful.

Cassandra checks command and war at hard. Cassandra marginally fails.

Xandrine checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Xandrine fails.

Ahven checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Ahven is successful.

Cristoph checks command and leadership at hard. Cristoph is successful.

Lucie checks command and leadership at hard. Lucie is successful.

Mabelle checks mana and manipulation at hard. Mabelle marginally fails.

Amari checks perception and survival at hard. Amari is successful.

Artur checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Artur is successful.

<MAGIC - THINK AGAIN> "We've got company," Cristoph shouts over the wind and sound of Tavalu's laughter. They've crashed into the big winged demon and he now has enough time to twist around, to see the many that are targeting them. "Let's give them what they came for." Is he suggesting they fly straight at them? YES. Firmly in place again, he swings his sword into the air. It gleams, shines. It's not a golden glow, it's silver, bright and burning white fire. "We are Tavalu, We are Cristoph Laurent! WE ARE THE OATHLANDS. COME FOR US IF YOU STILL DARE," he shouts through the air, defiance and hope all looped into one.

[MAGIC] Once on the ground, Jael has no problem driving her sword all the way to the hilt into the flyer she tackled. It squirms under her and tries to hiss at her, but she roars back, then tugs on her sword, and, finding it stuck, picks up the entire enormous demon by its neck and the sword driven into its body and swings it in a wide, devastating arc, throwing back shards, taking out siege ladders, and even scattering some of the bodies of the dead that had started to build up on the wall near her. The momentum also smacks the demon on the wall hard enough to splatter it, which gets her sword free, so that's good.

[Magic:utility] Time to get creative. Mabelle is trying to summon one of the Queens she created out of shadow. The objective is to make it big enough for Belle to ride upon. So she inflates it and inflates it and inflates it and BOOM. With a buzzy grunt the Queen Bee evaporates into thin shadow, making Mabelle cringe. Oopsie.

Demura checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Demura fails.

Demura has suffered a serious wound!

Demura checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Demura is successful.

Demura remains capable of fighting.

Xandrine checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Xandrine marginally fails.

This time around, Richard is unimpeded in the battlefield, and he successfully patches someone up with his own healer's kit. A tourniquet is applied to the soldier's gored arm and some salve is rubbed even as other brave healers grab her to finish the treatment. He dashes over to the next wounded, digging them out from under the corpse of a demon, checking their wounds with consternation. Everyone has a role to play. Some fight, some keep others in the fight. It's a grim duty, but it's one he excels at.

[Magic: Turning Corpse Mountain Into Shroom Soup] Amari is suddenly back on the ramparts, and quickly recognizes the major problem unfolding. That is, all these demons climbing up the carcasses of the other demons to breach the wall. Bringing her squirrel to a momentary stop with a squeeze of her knees and a 'woah-there!', she takes in a deep breath and deals with it. Holding a coin hung from a leather cord around her neck she focuses on something below, something someone might overlook during an intense battle. A mushroom. There it is. Cute little thing in a clump of others, nearly treaded over. Red capped. White dotted. That's her new friend. "Little shroom, little shroom, aren't you hungry yet? GROW, SPREAD, DEVOUR!"

Suddenly there's a whole lot more of them, and they're GROWING. There's so much flesh to eat down there, and they're hungry.

Too close. The horde is at the gates, rendering the artillery mostly ineffective at this point. "Get to the oil! Pour the oil!" she shouts. Not all the soldiers manning the catapults hear the change in orders, though some close enough do take the hint and. But she'll need to give that order again. Around that point, she sees Artur getting rolled by a bunch of imps, rushing in that direction and try and help cut them down. "Get off him, damned creatures!" she howls, swinging at one while booting another away.

"Fine," Demura huffs to Lucie, lying through her clenched teeth as she bleeds a lot. "Doing just FINE!" That last word is roared at the shard she levels her spear at, pushing through her pain and injuries with reckless abandon. She burned down a forest once! This shouldn't be so hard.

Tavalu's wings open with a snap, halting her downward plunge. The large demon she's grappling with doesn't. It smashes into the oncoming shards as she banks again, her wings beating furiously despite the claw rent in her side. She's moving away from the walls now, away and away, leading the group of beholders, though one gets close enough that she slaps it away with her tail. Faster, faster, and Tavalu laughs again, all nerves, before speaking rapidly. She puts distance between them. Then? Then she makes an impossible twist, her tail swinging out behind her, and it's straight into the beholders with the full force and weight of her ridiculous speed. It's like a very large, very dangerous game of bowling, except with far too many angry eyeballs.

Tavalu says in Draconic, "Catch me, catch me, catch me, catch me...!"

Making the mistake of looking down at the noise from the gate, Xandrine gets IMMEDIATELY thwacked in the head hard enough that someone, somewhere might thing someone has struck a bell. She's utterly unable to point her teeny little knives in any evil little sides, but she does kind of point and mime at Ahven: OVER THERE. LET'S GO.

Venture wheels around when she discovers that Artur is not on her back anymore. Her eyes roll and she bares teeth at the imps darting around trying to take potshots at Artur. Artur, for his part, is rolling around dodging hooves and imps and swearing to all the Gods and maybe a few spirits, "I'm gonna reckon- ow! Shit. OW! Venture- Ven-STOP ow!"

Somehow, SOMEHOW he is able to remount and tears ass across the battlefield, Venture's hooves ringing on the fresh cobbles, along the well-groomed streets. He pauses, "Wow. Mabelle. This... this is really nice. You did a really good job. Wow." He is admiring the New Artshall when a shard leaps at them. Venture rears and nails it in the chest with her hooves. Artur whips his spear around stabs it in its gaping toothy maw. Venture settles and wheels a bit, "Yeah, a really nice job, Mabs!"

Lucie calls back at Demura, "Excellent!" and then she gets back to the business of keeping things off the walls. She's to the fore, encouraging the group of knights through simple presence. "Keep steady. Don't let them at the archers." Then giant mushrooms appear farther along, which has Lucie staring that way for a second in bewilderment, as if everything else around wasn't already weird enough.

Ahven is good at math! It is known. She spits out ichor and blood and nearly chokes as Xandrine takes a hard blow. The woman stays upright though, and points...and Ahven nods. Maybe she misunderstands, maybe not, but there's another thump as those ogres batter the gates again, and she hops down onto the next level of stone, squares up, and LEAPS off with her glaive held high, to bring it down the front of the ogre readying to pull back for another charge. There's a lot of momentum behind it, and it splits the front of the thing open.

A rapid, unexplained mushroom growth makes the ramp of corpses dissolve in the most unsettling way possible, even seeming to make some of the shards pause and iiiiiinch away towards the gate being assaulted (and ogres being assaulted by a diminutive glaive wielder), or to at least mushroom free scaling ladders. Oil rains down on the shards, and combined with a dragon there's a sea of flame along the walls of Artshall. A group of robed shards with arcane symbols have a ray of light surround them in a circle, and one direbee is struck by it, immediately growing far larger and mutating into a floating, abyssal abomination of a bee, that swoops down and attacks Laurent defenders with a shrieking, "SKREEEEEE!" The beholders all continue to chase Tavalu, though blasts from their eye stacks are raining everywhere.

((Enemy offensive turn, 154 Victory Points total. I'll do the luck checks, and then players do the defensive checks as necessary.))

Apostate has called for a check of luck at normal.
TIE: Richard is successful. Ahven is successful.
Tavalu is successful.
Lucie is successful.
TIE: Seleni is successful. Xandrine is successful.
Artur marginally fails.
TIE: Cristoph fails. Demura fails. Mabelle fails. Amari fails. Cassandra fails.
Jael fails.

Demura checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Demura fails.

Jael checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Jael is successful.

Amari checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Critical Success! Amari is spectacularly successful.

Mabelle checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Mabelle marginally fails.

Cristoph checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Cristoph is successful.

Cassandra checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Cassandra marginally fails.

Artur checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Artur is successful.

There's a thousand different small fights all throughout the one gigantic battle. The dire bees and imps are having a tussle. The gates are being contested by ogre and significantly shorter heroes. The beholders are being picked off in the air but still numerously chasing a dragon and duke, blasting as they go. And through it all, thousands upon thousands of shards are constantly trying to overwhelm the defenders. One of the walls has taken terrible structural damage, and abyssally twisted golems are just hammering on the stone, trying to tear it down brick by brick.

((Round 4: 154 Victory Points. If you've used magic 3 times in the battle, you can continue to do so, but you'll now have to do an additional mana check afterwards to see if you take damage, unless you have an item to sacrifice for magical fuel. Checks still at hard, and yes damage still for failed checks.))

Artur checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Artur is successful.

Richard checks intellect and medicine at hard. Richard is successful.

Cristoph checks command and leadership at hard. Cristoph marginally fails.

Xandrine checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Xandrine is successful.

Lucie checks command and leadership at hard. Lucie is successful.

Cassandra checks command and war at hard. Cassandra marginally fails.

Jael checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jael is successful.

Amari checks command and leadership at hard. Amari is successful.

Ahven checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Ahven marginally fails.

Demura checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Demura is successful.

Mabelle checks mana and manipulation at hard. Mabelle is successful.

<Magic: Rallying Call> They're right in the thick of things, which ultimately means DANGER. More danger than already present! A particularly clever and fast imp manages to break past the beat of Tavalu's wings and her spray of fire. It grabs a hold of the harness that holds Cristoph in place and reaches forward with a slimy, dark clawed hand. SCREEEEEEECH. He ducks down, avoiding having his head ripped off by a thin margin. "Fuck--" he swears, straightening and smashing the pommel of the sword of swords into its big ugly face. It falls away into the sky below. He raises his voice again, "DEFENDERS OF ARTSHALL, HEAR MY WORDS. WE WILL NOT FALL, WE WILL NOT SURRENDER. HOLD THE WALLS." A call that would be far more useful if the earlier imp wasn't clawing its way back up, having caught a piece of the harness and now his leg. "GET DOWN." Pommel smashsmashsmashsmsahsmsmash.

Mabelle drops an unusual eerie looking inlaid platinum brooch .

Xandrine throws herself down after to Ahven a beat behind her. She's already taken a solid hit, and she's off-balance, and that incipient concussion is gonna make tomorrow all kinds of terrible if she lives to see it. But. Like hell is she gonna let Ahven be the one to look all cool without her. She aligns herself at Ahven's back, keeping her free to wield her high-damage glaive as the knives keep space free for them both to move. "The big guy only counts as one!" she calls over her shoulder as she racks up points to ... still ... be behind ... Ahven's total.

[Magic Swarm] While Cristoph is having an anger management session, Mabelle is having fun with bees. Perhaps she lost the objective of the battle, but has she? Mirroring some SHADOW QUEEN DIRE BEES, she summons them to her, hangs a couple tentacles and allows them to carry her into the middle of the field. WHAT ARE YOU DOING WOMAN? She lands on one of those siege turtles with a handsome elf and from there, shooting tentacles at everyone and their sister is a little more convenient. The bees are released for now. Havoc hell, you little darlings, while she does the same, driving them shards away from existance.

[MAGIC - Furyborn Rage] Finding herself in the center of a wide open space, cleared out by her use of a demon as an unconventional weapon, Jael scans the battlefield. It looks, for a moment, like she might be calming down, right up until she sees the ogres assaulting the gates, and then she howls out a battle cry (or maybe she's just too angry to do words right now) and dashes toward the gates. Several steps short of one of the ogres, she leaps, clearing the shards clustered around the gates to land on an ogre's back, sword first. Then she just hangs on, like she's riding the world's ugliest horse and stabs it over and over. "THIS!" *stab* "IS!" *stab* "MY!" *stab* "HOME!" Turns out she can do words.

Focusing on mushrooms, while sitting on a giant squirrel is perhaps, not the most defensible position to be in. That's a big target, and a shower of stones and fire begins to drop all around Amari. Luckily, her fuzzy friend has ridiculous instincts and reflexes. After the first stone snaps and bounces against the stone wall, he's gone. Like the wind. His rider can do little but hold on tight and hope the rain of death doesn't hit her. It doesn't. It does however happen that Hunk launches himself, lands next to Demura, and when Amari sees what's about to befall her, she helpfully reaches out and yanks her by the shoulder. "Watch it!" She chimes helpfully, and then she and the squirrel are gone. There's troops to rally.

Being so mobile, she 's noticing the troubles. So dispatches turtles and boars, with pike and footmen towards the buckling wall, and others toward the ogre battered gate to fill in the defense.

Tavalu is trying to get ahead of the beholders again, but that last turn - and the impacts - have left her momentum flagging. They are quite literally on her tail, and some just past it, with imps closing in as well. One furious wingbeat pulls her just a little bit further forward, and she starts to turn again, jaws parting. Cristoph can feel the sudden build up of heat...but it doesn't come. One of the beholders' blasts takes her full in the chest, and it's all she can do to keep herself in the air. For a moment, they're completely in the swarm.

There are some golems dismantling the wall and that's just not great, so Lucie hustles along the wall, after a frankly befuddled look at the giant squirrel and Amari as they whisk Demura off to safety. Lucie moves towards the golems instead. "Come with me," she shouts at some soldiers that she passes. She leans over the wall to look down at them, then calls back, "Drop rocks on them." Conveniently, various stones are piled up on the rampart nearby, and people start tossing some down.

"Oh, hey! Look! Siege turtles!" Artur grins and lays about himself with his spear, a flurry of hooves and hoots and stabbing. "Wow, I hope we don't need them, like, over there in a hurry." He frowns and charges off towards what he has identified as a Weak Spot in the wall where the lumbering siege turtles wouldn't get to very fast.

"A BIG one, though!" Ahven crows, and - yes, that checks out. She would be especially delighted about taking down something so much bigger than she is. Unfortunately, another is coming to take its place, with shards pressing in to try and remove them from the side of the ram. Without that great momentum on her side, she swings at an invader's knees (or what passes for knees), and her blade gets stuck, caught for a moment in a mound of ogreflesh until she can wrench it free, leaving her open to counterattack.

This time, Richard's busy stitching a cut that got past someone's chainmail, nearly cutting the person's thigh's artery. That would've gone bad. Once he is done with his handiwork, he drags the person to the healer's quarters, coming out to grab someone whose skin is full of blisters and burn wounds from something flammable that fell on them. The Wyrmguard braves through pain and discomfort to make sure these people get their treatment.

Cassandra is having trouble getting order properly to the soldiers while in the middle of chaos. The orders she was trying to get was pouring oil and horde that's pounding at the walls, while another group going to re-aim the ballistas at the golem trying to attack the wall. She got the oil order out, but not the other, her shouting getting lost in the midst of shouting. Doing her best to keep calm and ignore the other shredding of her armor against one of the imps that was after Artur, she moves to arm the ballista herself, the one atop of the wall closest to the golem. But she'll need to adjust and aim the giant crossbow. So..that's what she starts to do.

Very suddenly, Demura is being yanked by the shoulder by Amari, and there's that giant squirrel! "Sh- thanks!" She calls out, stumbling but recovering quickly, with enough time to skewer some smelly shards who are terrible.

Rocks falling on things heads is highly effective. This is a truism for both sides, as a truly unfortunate number of imps continue to try to demonstrate, but also as the defenders drop large smashed chunks of walls down on golems heads. This actually works, crushing many of their heads and causing them to collapse, which likely makes Brass somewhere go on a rant about poor construction techniques. The front gate is splintering, but most of the ogres are now down and others are fleeing, while some much larger ettins are thundering forward to show up their one headed kin. The beholders abruptly stop chasing Tavalu, and becomes clear a moment later why when a roar splinters the air and a pitch-black winged shape flies right at the duke and the dragon. It looks much like Tavalu, if it was made entirely of shadow, and had what looks like thirteen tails. It is breathing night black fire as it pursues the dragon.

((Luck round, 200 Victory Points now. Doing checks. If you use magic defensively, it reduces the difficulty tier by one.))

Apostate has called for a check of luck at normal.
Critical Success! Jael is spectacularly successful.
Seleni is successful.
TIE: Demura is successful. Mabelle is successful.
TIE: Xandrine is successful. Ahven is successful.
Richard is successful.
Lucie is successful.
Cassandra is successful.
Artur marginally fails.
TIE: Cristoph fails. Tavalu fails.
Botch! Amari fails completely.

Cristoph checks command and leadership at normal. Cristoph is successful.

Artur checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Artur is successful.

Artshall is holding. Not easily, not without tremendous loss of life, but it's holding. The amount of imps in the sky is winnowing, and the beholders are being more circumspect in their attacks, as the siege weapons and archers start to keep them down. The shadow dragon is twisting around with Tavalu and Cristoph, but the shards on the ground are hitting the lines of Laurent soldiers and the heroes among them, and they are standing strong.

((Round 5, Victory Points 200. Same rolls, and again if it's a 4th use or more of magic, need to sacrifice a magic item or do a mana check after for damage.))

Artur checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Artur is successful.

Xandrine checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Xandrine fails.

Richard checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Botch! Richard fails completely.

Jael checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jael is successful.

Cristoph checks command and leadership at hard. Cristoph is successful.

Demura checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Demura marginally fails.

Jael checks mana at hard. Jael fails.

Mabelle checks mana and manipulation at hard. Mabelle is successful.

Lucie checks command and leadership at hard. Lucie is successful.

Ahven checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Ahven is successful.

Xandrine checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Xandrine is successful.

<Magic - Dramatic Escape> They're surrounded by a swam of demons, completely obscured from sight. Tavalu and Cristoph aren't visible to the eyes of the people down on the field of battle. They're gone for one, two, three heartbeats that feel like an eternity. Then a flash of silver, a rallying shout and something that looks suspiciously like swords upon swords upon swords spray out from the mob. Ichor falls from the sky all around them and winged demons plummet away (including pommel-smashsmashsmash demon), creating an opening for Tavalu forward and out of the fray. <Magic - Rallying Cry> "FOR THE OATHLANDS," Cristoph calls out once they're free. Alive. Bloody. Both of them tired and near exhaustion. For those keep tracking, a brilliant fireweave gambeson that once adorned him is lustrous and gray. As if its aged a hundred years out in the rain and wind. The hands that grip is sword appear to be protected by nothing at all, the metal brittle and broken as it breaks away.

Amari checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Amari is successful.

Cassandra checks command and war at hard. Cassandra is successful.

Richard checks 'death save' at hard. Richard is successful.

Richard remains alive, but close to death.

Richard is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Richard checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Richard is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Richard does not take a permanent wound.

Ahven ducks out of the way of the smash of a club that looks more like the trunk of some poor tree, and she twists just in time to see something strange, out of the corner of her eye. Any fighter will tell you that when adrenaline is surging, it can seem like time slows down, but this is...different. It's like she sees something terrible happening in the next second, and the ring on her finger beneath her guantlet flashes HOT against her finger. The terrible thing doesn't happen. Ahven decides this is not the weirdest thing that has occurred in this battle, and dares a glance up at the skies.

Tavalu's eyes are much wider as she catches a glimpse of that...*thing* coming at her. In the moment, she's no good at hiding her fear, and while they can't be seen through the swarm, Cristoph can certainly feel it. She hesitates. Falters. Cristoph doesn't. There's that brilliant burst of magic from him, swords that blast away the swarm, a rallying cry that rises above the battle fray. It doesn't chase away her fear, but her eyes narrow again, she dips a wing, tips, turns, her tail whips behind her, and then, still caught in her momentum, her wings spread like sails catching the wind, her jaws part. Everyone along the walls can feel it, the tingle in the air, the moment of anticipation. And then fire erupts from her again, a stream of white-hot death aimed square at the shadow dragon as it comes for them.

[Magic defense] Standing on top of that turtle with that handsome elf almost makes Mabelle forget she's engaged. Concentrate little girl. Her hands move in the air and she conjures a mass of NORMAL SIZED BEES, but shadow bees. They begin to assault all the center of the battlefield, making it easier for anyone around to shoot, slack, hack at them. Her rainbow prism dress is like a beacon on the battlefield and she calls, "ARTSHALL!!! I AM RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS ON HOW TO RECONSTRUCT THE CITY SQUARE. KEEP PUSHING, DONT PISS ME OFF!"

There's a grunt of effort as the bleeding Cassandra starts to aim the massive ballista bolt at one of the golems. But then...well. Another target appears. This shadow dragon, which makes her eyes go wide. Jerking the ballista controls again, she grits her teeth, trying to lead the target, looking down the aiming sight of the seige weapon. "C'mon....c'mon. Fly it right to me, Cristoph." She adjusts large thing again on it's control mechanisms. "Just a little closer..." Her hand wraps around the release level to let the bolt fly, the thick spun cords groaning under the tension. She opens her other eye to make sure she's aiming right. Close. "Smile, you son of a--"

*ch-CHUNK* and the bolt flies away, screaming towards the Shadow Dragon.

There's a moment where Demura really thinks she's caught her stride in this fight. She's yanking back her spear from the guts of a shard when the butt end gets knocked hard. She staggers, just missing the next she'd lined up for the pointy end.

"Yeah!" Xandrine crows as the ogres go down, even begin to turn on them. As the tiny terrors do their work, she moves forward: relentless, inevitable, driving the slim point of her blade with all the force of her body. And then she looks up. And up. And up. And as she looks at the ettins she says to herself, "This is what it is like to be Ahven." She wheels back, gathering herself for a new target as she calls, "They got bigger!" in a louder voice. Her knives didn't, though. She throws herself toward the ettins -- and it is at the absolute, very last second that one misses her already-dented helm, her already-dented head, as she stabs it's ... toe. Oh yeah, this is definitely what it's like to be Ahven.

[MAGIC - Furyborn Rage] On the ogre's back, Jael squirms around its flailing attempts to pluck her off and manages, somehow, between continuing to furiously stab it, to steer its flailing death throes at just the right moment to knock Amari out of danger. As it starts to fall, she manages to steer it again, and directs momentum to crash it right down on top of a cluster of shards. And she just keeps stabbing. "THIS!" *stab* "IS!" *stab* "WHAT!" *stab* "YOU!" *stab* "GET!" She is literally beating a dead horse. Except it's an ogre.

Siege turtles are rather slow. Artur wasn't wrong in that observation, especially when they try to go through lanes that are a bit too tight for their massive shells. They rend through the wood and stone with their claws all the same, and those with pike standing atop them push at the walls with the bottoms of their weapons. Some of the flimsier constructions fall down, and the great beasts drag themselves out of the dust and rubble. Three are lead to the main gates, where the Ettin's are taking their turn, with Amari at the forefront, holding on to the squirrel beneath her as it moves like it doesn't understand it's not a tiny prey animal anymore.

"Plug the breaches with turtles and spears! Boars charge!" The baroness yells to her troops, as they do just that, forming walls of bristling spearpoints and snapping turtle mouths. Ogre, or Ettin or whatever, that's not something anything with sense wants to run straight into. For her part, Amari leads by example, rejoining the gate defenders to hack at whatever shadowy creature she zips by. Her diamondplate sword flashes with each swing which, by necessity, are rather wild. A trio of elves on thundering hairy black boars flank her, spearing down whatever she misses.

The shadow dragon shrieks as it is enveloped in fire, writhing in the air, before it is hit ballistae bolt that tears through its neck, and it falls limply to the ground, landing roughly where Richard was standing in a gigantic plume of smoke and ash. Somehow, he lived, even with a shadow dragon dissolving on top of him. There's hesitation in the forces attacking Artshall now, and some of the beholders can be seen driiiiiifting back, while most of the thousands of shards launch into one last mad charge, trying to slip through the different cracks in Artshall's defenses. Some of the ettins thunder forward, as the legion swims forward in one last ditch effort to overwhelm the forces, even as some in the rear look on the verge of a rout.

((Round 6: 252 Victory Points. Same checks. Someone asked about self-sacrifice, and when someone does that, they are treated as doing an inhuman success, and any fail/botch for the round is treated as simple successes.))

Apostate has called for a check of luck at normal.
Critical Success! Cassandra is spectacularly successful.
Artur is successful.
Tavalu is successful.
Xandrine is successful.
TIE: Demura is successful. Ahven is successful.
Lucie is successful.
Mabelle marginally fails.
Jael marginally fails.
TIE: Cristoph fails. Amari fails.
Richard fails.
Botch! Seleni fails completely.

Jael checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Jael is successful.

Mabelle checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Mabelle marginally fails.

Cristoph checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Cristoph fails.

Amari checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Amari fails.

Artur checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Artur is successful.

Artur does another ride by attack of the shards still swarming up over the walls. He and Venture doing a number on shards scrambling over the walls and through breaches. He's bloody and beaming and wholly in his element. What a weird thing to find THIS as his element. How many apocalypses are there going to be really? It's a pretty niche element. "Hyah! Venture! HYAH!" Woooo!

Cristoph checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Cristoph is successful.

The battle culminates, the enemy is throwing everything into one final effort to destroy Artshall and slaughter everyone within. Thousands upon thousands of shards lie die, but they attack now with suicidal intensity.

((Round 6: 252 Victory Points. Same checks. Someone asked about self-sacrifice, and when someone does that, they are treated as doing an inhuman success, and any fail/botch for the round is treated as simple successes, but since that's decided afterwards go ahead and check.))

Demura checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Demura is successful.

Mabelle checks mana and manipulation at hard. Mabelle marginally fails.

Jael checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Jael is successful.

Ahven checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Ahven fails.

Jael checks mana at hard. Botch! Jael fails completely.

Xandrine checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Critical Success! Xandrine is spectacularly successful.

Cristoph checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Cristoph is successful.

Artur checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Artur is successful.

Cassandra checks command and war at hard. Cassandra marginally fails.

Amari checks dexterity and archery at hard. Amari fails.

[Magic]While they seem to be losing, they dont seem to be leaving. They keep circling the city walls, looking for an in. They seem less enagaged, maybe, but those bastards are still here. Mabelle exchanges a few words with the elf riding the turtle and he directs them to the center of the battlefield. "ARTSHALL", Mabelle calls, "You are my one true love. My most beloved duty. I'm sorry". As the wind begins to blow harder, Mabelle start becoming a twisting storm of shadow. She appears in the middle of the shards, and a sudden giant explosion of darkness that has thousands of them devoured by their own shadows. And then, there is silence.

Mabelle has died.

Lucie checks command and leadership at hard. Lucie is successful.

Has Cristoph missed the giant shadow dragon while the swarm surrounded them? Well, probably not. PROBABLY. But he only fully recognizes its true horror when Tavalu turns around to confront it with a spray of fire. An audible (to her) gasp can be heard in his throat, echoing through his chest. The gasp turns into a laugh, then an even louder one, as if he can't quite believe their luck in this moment. He follows the path of the bolt, leading him right to Cassandra on the battlements. Does she see the thumbs up? "Gods, there's so many of them!" he calls out to Tavalu as his eyes take in the swarm that's throwing itself at his walls. And then he gives his sword another swing, taking out an attacker that dared to get too close. But not before it raps him on the head with its leathery wing.

"One last time into the fr- NO!" An anguished cry is ripped from his throat when Mabelle calls out, when the wind blows, whips his hair. When the explosion rattles his armor and shakes him to his core. As thousands of the enemies die on the ground, in this moment it means very little. The cry turns to a choked sound. "INTO THE FRAY," he calls finally, fully, his voice thick with pain.

This has been a wicked fight, and Demura is bleeding heavily as she continues to press the Abyssal figures back. She releases an angry shout as her spear buries through two at once. The marquessa stops as that wind stirs and shadows begin to swirl. There's a moment where she looks like she might dive for cover until she realizes - Mabelle. Her eyes widen, carelessly wrenching her spear back and staring, dumbfounded, in the direction where the Laurent lady disappeared.

Seeing that shadow dragon fall away is enough to return Tavalu's confidence, however bloody and tired she might be. She has a moment to see the battlefield spread out below her, the last ditch swarming charge, the hesitation at the back of their no longer endless ranks, and the beholders that are starting to drift ever so slightly back. ...Then the shadows, the push of magic from behind and below. She doesn't know what's happened. She didn't know the person who is responsible, and now she never will. But she can *feel* it. The sense of what it means.

"Into the fray," she echoes Cristoph quietly.

...His grief's enough. She pushes forward, her wings half fold, she drops into a partial dive that takes her down and then she's swooping over the hordes of remaining shards. Flame comes, hot enough to near singe the ends of Cristoph's hair. Beholders? Fire. Shards? Fire. Demons? *Fire*. She carves furrows of flame into the enemy as she goes, and it doesn't matter if they break, she chases them. On and on, as if she had endless breath to go with her sudden fury.

[MAGIC - Furyborn Rage] Eventually Jael gets it through her head that the trampled mush under her that used to be an ogre is, in fact, now a dead ogre. She looks up to see a line of shards... thinking about pushing in, but also thinking maybe they don't want a face full of the rough edge of her temper. Today, however, is not 'the shards get it their way' day, because with a roar, Jael charges them with fierce swings of her sword. Even the explosion of shadow is only enough to get her attention inasmuch as it staggers her, and it has scattered a lot of the people that she was interested in introducing to her sword. She looks in that direction, but her eyes aren't particularly focused anymore, and she almost doesn't understand what she sees.

In the heart of battle, defenders all throughout the walls, the army of Laurent and its vassals, watch as Lady Mabelle Laurent moves herself into the center of the enemy. As she bids farewell, before the ground shakes with a thunderous explosion, and raw shadow drains the light from the sky, and all anywhere near Artshall need to blink for a moment before the light returns, and they can see the thousands of shards around Mabelle writhing and turning to dust. A hole in their lines has been made more than a mile wide, with the body of Mabelle Laurent, seemingly untouched as if she was asleep, lying still on the field.

And then comes the rout. The fight goes out of the horde after the explosion, as Cristoph and Tavalu unleash fury on them, and the army of Artshall rallies for a charge. The entire legion is put to flight, fleeing in the woods, and thousands more are cut down with the army of Laurent and its heroes pursuing them, and the last bitter remnants at the city walls cut down.

Artshall holds.

The kill was a good one, and Cassandra returns that thumbs up to her brother, but then shortly after her eyes pull her to see Amari having her own spot of trouble. While reloading and reaiming the ballistae would take too long to be worth while, she can grab up Mercy and run to the other woman's aid, but this time with far more of a positive affect than she tried earlier. The creature that had pounced on Amari gets a diamondplate sword through it's neck for troubles, a swift kick with an armored boot knocks the now dead body away, and a hand reaches out to offer Amari up.

But her countenance falters, seeing Mabelle doing....something. And her eyes water slightly. "MABELLE!!" she all but screams into the din and roar of wind. And all she can do is lift her gauntleted hand to shield her eyes from the sudden torrent of wind.

The problem with cavalry charges is that there isn't really any dodging, just colliding with stuff. Some stuff is even bigger than giant squirrels, like Ettins. The boar riders with her lock her and the squirrel into a set trajectory and like in a car crash, she can only watch. She's going to get squished. She knows it. The Ettin knows it. She accepts it. Wildly Inappropriate is thrust out and she closes her eyes as the inevitable impact comes. Only, it doesn't. Another creature leaps on her back and pulls her clean out of the sadlle to the ground. And that's when Cassandra steps in, neatly stripping the demon from her back. It's over.

When she opens her eyes, she's alive... but her friend is gone. The explosion of Mabelle's heroic self sacrifice ripples over her and her last words ring in her ears. Normally, she'd been smiling and glad for the hand up from the Legate, but she's already tearing up. She's done when Cassandra screams out her name. "Oh gods. Mabelle?"

There's a moment, as the stillness closes over the battlefield, where Jael just stands there, breathing hard, and swaying in place while she blinks at the hole in the line, trying to comprehend what she's seeing. Comprehension comes gradually, but no matter what anguish might build in her, she's too exhausted to cry out. "Mabelle, no..." Her sword slips from her fingers as she sinks to her knees in the bloody dirt.

Lucie Laurent had arranged herself and her knights just behind the gate, ready for them to be broken. The breach never comes, as Mabelle's sacrifice clears the field. Lucie blinks rapidly as the light comes back, and then, as they glean what had happened, she rushes to fetch her horse, and from there to ride out with the others, pursuing the shards. She reins the horse in as she looks towards the form of her cousin, then sucks down a breath, and canters off once more, after the remnants of the horde.

Beneath the dissolving figure of the shadow dragon, Richard appears grievously wounded, but somehow there are no shattered bones on his form. His armor is ruined, the pieces shattered or warped beyond utility. Recovery will be slow, but not painful. Not, at least, for the month or so that will follow. If he regains unconsciousness before then, that'd be just as much of a miracle.

Richard wakes up.

Ahven hears the cries of anguish, panting. Mabelle is gone, but Artshall stands victorious. She stops short of chasing TOO far, leave that to those who are mounted, and turns back to survey the walls, the damaged city, the defenders lifting the fallen and wounded. She draws in a deep breath, and lets out a howl of victory, the cheer of a knight that catches among the commons and grows to a thundering cry.


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The legion marched of Azazel marched on Artshall. The domains have the southwestern Oathlands had suffered tremendously, with all the holdings west and south of House Laurent's demense surrendered or falling before Azazel's march. Thousands of refugees were fleeing, all too many lost as they fled for the safety of Arx, hoping after they passed Artshall that the powerful duchy would provide a bulwark to buy them time.

House Laurent did more than that.

In a fight that saw their duke riding on dragon back, the horde broke itself against the walls of Artshall. Reports speak of Lady Mabelle Laurent moving alone into the thick of enemy lines, and then a terrible explosion sundering their forces for a mile in all directions, resulting on a complete rout.

Azazel's legions will reassemble themselves, but much weaker for it. Artshall stands, bruised but unbroken. For tens of thousands of men, women and children on the road to Arx, they survive to see another dawn.
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With her armor rent and a pair of slashes, one across her back and another raked over her shoulder from imp claws that torn through the metal, a bloodied Cassandra moves forward, to the veritable hole in the lines. The horde has been routed, in retreat. "Gloria, give solace and praise to the soul who gave everything of herself for the sake of others. Gloria, see that this soul is viewed favorable, that you would know her valor." she says not quite numbly, but enough that she's chewing on a mass of emotions. "Gloria, watch her give herself to save so many others. There is no more honorable, no more sacred act." And once she arrives at Mabelle's body, looking alseep, she goes down to one knee. "Gloria, see that this soul was far braver and far more heroic than any I have known." her voice is weaker, quieter. "If only all of us had that choice to know when to return to the Wheel. And to do so with a smile. I will miss you, Mabelle. But I will forever remember you. All my love."

"No. No no no nonono." Artur watches, stricken, as Mabelle becomes, succumbs, transcends... is gone. No. He chases down the remnants of the fleeing horde, but his heart isn't in it. He rejoices for Artshall and the victory, but for Mabelle to be gone... the soot and blood and ichor smearing his face is tear-streaked when he returns at last within the smoldering walls of Artshall. It's heavy. It's heavy and Venture is blown and gassed, her mouth foaming, flanks lathered. He slips from her back and she stumbles, "Oh, cousin. It's a beautiful city." He bows his head. "I knew this wasn't Farhaven, you know." Venture snorts.

"Farhaven is pointier."

With the battle over, the enemy forces broken apart, and the loss of life significant, Cristoph sags against Tavalu's back. The sword is sheathed and he surveys the burning ground of his holdings. The initial wave of grief has broken over him, and with no more demons and imps and ogres to fight? All that remains is to go home again. He's spent, exhausted, but his duty to Artshall and the heroes below isn't done yet.

"Thank you," he whispers, placing his hand against her side. "For all of it." A hard swallow follows, and the tears are forced back and down. "We survived."

The baroness has duties to see to, so Amari tries not to fall completely apart. Just partly apart. Chin up, she removes her helmet and tucks it under her arm as she watches what remains of the black demonic tide ebb back in thinner rivulets away from Artshall. She's rubbing the tears from her cheeks when Botastic rides up alongside on a massive black dire bear. "I'm fine. Steel bends, honor holds." She says in a choked little voice, before recovering it and remembering she's in command here, in part. "Gather everyone into formation. Take a count and report any losses. Send Kermit to the baggage train, and arrange a scouting party. A small one. It looks like the fights out of them for now."

Giving her elven kin's knee a fond pat, she limps off to coax Hunk the squirrel back to her side so she can walk out where Cassandra is kneeling. "Farewell, friend." She whispers.

Tavalu's response is largely a low rumble. She's suddenly so very tired. At a much slower speed, she takes a wide turn, mostly gliding back toward Artshall itself. She'll make it without flapping much more, which must be a relief. "This is what I wanted. Dreams in all the skies." She flies lower. Down to the city.