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Post by Doozerpindan on Mar 9, 2018 6:11:55 GMT -5
Elisef looked at the two who had addressed her, only the very slight narrowing of her eyes showed any hint of irritation at being adressed in such a manner, but she let it slide. These weren't milk-drinking nobles trying to drive a proverbial knife in, they were adventurers and travellers who had legitimate reason for concern. Very well.
She dismissed Odar with a wave of her hand, assuring him that the food would not go to waste. The many bowed graciously as he backed out of the room.
"We shall do away with the pretence then, shall we?" The High Queen spoke softly, once the room was once more just her, these adventurers, and the more than a dozen guards around the room. Her nails tapped lightly upon the arm of her throne as she considered how best to tell these people what they wanted to hear. She decided truth would likely play out best. "The smuggling operation coming out of the Grotto is a front. It was a group we tolerated only because we had, and still have, larger concerns." Ten years on and the Legion still has no true leader, with all its petty schemes and the like. As such, Elisef was very much on her own in Skyrim. Tullius did his best with what men he had, but he cannot keep the borders safe, have troops escorting Thalmor patrols as they deal with Talos worshippers, patrol the main highways between the holds, *and* then also deal with every criminal with a point to prove that crops up, thinking they're suddenly going to be better or more successful than every other cretin before them.
"Recently, we sent spies aboard one of the ships leaving the grotto, and they returned with strange items made of a metal not native to this part of Skyrim. We had our people study them and they could deduce only that they seemed to be components of much larger constructs. I sent a missive along with one of the strange items to Markarth, to be studied by the court wizard there, Calcemo, as he is perhaps the foremost authority on the ancient Dwemer. Jarl Igmund replied swiftly. and it is that reply which has concerned me so greatly. Calcemo has been missing for several days now, so it was his nephew who identified the artefact. On top of that, the item was not a true Dwemer artefact. It was made of Dwemer metals, but it was not as pure as the typical Dwemer creation, and the resulting lack of strength had been compensated with by adding other metals to the mix. If there are people in the Grotto trying to create their own Dwemer constructs, I want to know about, and I want it stopped if possible. We cannot spare the men to investigate this as there simply aren't the troops to spare, and most Legionaires are not trained for these kinds of missions. If Calcemo is there, if he is being forced to aid them, please do what you can to bring him back to Solitude. However, if he is helping them willingly..."
The final words hung in the air, heavy with their implied meaning.
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Post by Former Fiend on Mar 15, 2018 19:06:28 GMT -5
Two days ago, Harkanon had slept in a guest room in the Blue Palace of Solitude. He had eaten a meal prepared by a royal chef and, when no one was looking, hard charmed one of the serving girls into bed with him. Annoyances at the circumstances that had brought him there aside, he had to admit on the whole he had enjoyed his stay. Especially given that he had never so much as set foot in a palace before.
Today he found himself on the water, sailing around the northern horn of Skyrim. The water was cold here, with icebergs visible through the fog in the distance to the north. But it wasn't so cold as the waters behind them, as the currents here still carried the warmth of the southern deserts up here to Skyrim. The same warmth he had been thinking about two days ago when he was planning to sail for Hammerfell, along this very route.
But he wasn't bound for Hammerfell & he wasn't sailing anywhere. He was in a small craft fit for less than a dozen people – which was fortunate as it currently carried less than a dozen inside of it it – rowing through these cold waters on his way to Broken Oar Grotto.
He wasn't sure why he had agreed to this upon reflection. Perhaps he had just felt in a generous mood when he woke up yesterday, after the meal and the company and the comfort of the bed. It was as close to well rested as he had been in months. Perhaps it was the promise of payment, which the queen had stopped being quite so vague about. A quick job, and he'd be on his way to Hammerfell with a few more gold coins in his purse.
No small part of it was that he found himself intrigued at the thought of someone making new dwemer animunculi. He had learned enough about the dwarven constructs while learning how to forge weapons & armor from their mysterious metal to know that should be impossible. The automatons generally shut down outside of the dwarven ruins as if they drew power from them. He had heard of some limited success in controlling them outside of dwarven ruins, but only when using dwarven tools to do it.
The actual art of constructing new ones should be beyond anyone alive in Tamriel, unless they had found a dwarf to help them do it.
He supposed curiosity was a good enough reason to investigate this. See if they were actually making progress in making new dwarf constructs, kill them, take their stuff. Either save or kill this mage, depending on whether he was their hostage or their accomplice.
Harkanon couldn't say that had an issue with taking money for killing people. The empire had paid him to do that for ten years.
The boat lurched a bit as it came to ground, sliding up on shore and into the black sand. They hadn't quite reached their destination yet; this was a small island, the type that would be completely covered by high tide, just north of the Grotto from which they could scout out & plan their approach. Harkanon pulled the oars into the boat before stepping out onto the sand to haul the small craft up out of the water.
He rolled his shoulders as best he could in his armor; his arms ached from rowing, his lungs hurt fro the cold air. It didn't take him five minutes to walk across the tiny island to the south beach, trying to see if he could make out any activity on the shore. Was no good; the fog was too thick for scouting.
“Well, shit.” Harkanon said aloud. “Anyone have any ideas? Because right now my best one is to use the fog for cover, row over there and charge right in.”
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Post by purestmorganic on Mar 16, 2018 23:42:38 GMT -5
Daro opened her mouth to respond to Harkanon, “This one does not believe using our faces as shields is the best idea. Perhaps we could sneak in, and take them out one by one so they can’t alert their friends of our presence.” Daro did think that charging in would most likely make her face more than smashed like a cracked open mudcrab, which she still couldn’t believe that some people enjoyed feasting on such a….disgusting creature..?
She also didn’t really understand what he meant by fog, she could see perfectly fine in this weather, perhaps it was her eyesight, and she never really had trouble with fog or ruins because of it. She also thought that she would probably die instantly if she charged in. She didn’t have heavy armor like Harkanon or armor at all. Just a bunch of wrapped linens and rags that bore the symbol of Arkay.
She also gestured towards her clothing, “Even if we charged in and they didn’t alert others around them of our presence as fast, this one would sure die instantly if caught.” She didn’t really think that she could charge in if she tried, sure she’s nimble and quick but can’t attack all those people that fast.
She just waited for a response to see what happens.
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Panzer
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Post by Panzer on Mar 17, 2018 19:53:40 GMT -5
Sarkhan looked out at their projected destination, he could see the shimmer of miasma faint from this distance but still there. Something there pulled at his senses, from the distance he could not tell what, nor did he care, if it needed destroyed he would see to it. The fog was thick and that would certainly work to their advantage for scouting out sentries but once inside the grotto the advantage would eventually disperse. The shaman was no tactician but he knew enough of war to know you only used a frontal assault when you had fodder to overwhelm them or as a last ditch effort. They had neither, truthfully it looked like they had one and a half fighters to engage the front line with some ranged support and whatever the khajit and other robed guy could do.
There was not really a good way to do this beyond trying to isolate and eliminate, the more they could deal with quickly and quietly or lure into situations where they were cornered enough for a fireball or two. So the khajit was sneaky, that could certainly help out and get them into the main bulk of the Grotto. “I agree, a frontal assault would be suicide, I don't doubt your sword arm my friend but with the question of numbers, the two of us against a potential bigger host don't stack in our favor. Besides my magic is far stronger then my axe, I could send a archon or two to fight beside you should the need arise, but my arm would not last long against multiple foes.”
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Post by Doozerpindan on Mar 19, 2018 0:58:03 GMT -5
Audhild sat sharpening her blade, the firelight of the torch behind her glinting off the polished metal. Pure Nordic steel, just how she liked it. The sword had aided her through her childhood, tasting blood for the first time when she was twelve and a neighbour had tried to force himself upon her.
She had grown a lot since then, and her crew of a dozen skilled companions was a testament to that. They had taken the Grotto with little effort, butchering the more aggressive inhabitants and feeding the remains to the Slaughterfish. There were nests in the water, and anybody stupid enough to go in wasn’t coming back out.
The scaffolding upon which she sat was reinforced, no rickety wood that could be set ablaze by an attacking enemy or an errant spark. It had taken months to get everything they had needed, having items shipped in gradually so as to avoid the notice of the High Queen and her lackeys. Of course, the High Queen wasn’t the only one she wished to avoid here in Skyrim’s frozen north.
“Aud.” Said a gruff voice. It was Gratk, her blacksmith. A good man, skilled with a Warhammer, a master at crafting fine weapons and armour.
“Hm?” Audhild looked up.
“The last of the pieces are done, we can send the next shipment as soon as the others are ready.”
Audhild’s eyes flickered in the direction of the construct. Its position upon the stone bridge made it seem more ominous and foreboding, but it was “asleep” at the moment. The construct was a gift, a reward for their services so far. It had never been tested in battle however, she was hesitant to believe that soul gems could match the power source the ancient Dwarves had created for their constructs.
“See to it that the ship is ready to set sail before the sun sets. And send along some Springwine as another apology for the missing pieces in last month’s shipment.”
Gratk flinched, even though there was no accusation or anger in Audhild’s voice. He had made more pieces to cover what was missing but had not been able to find the pieces that had gone missing. The only other possibility was that they had been stolen after leaving the Grotto, though how was a mystery.
Their contact had sent more men as added security, as well as two mages who could summon Atronach’s. Four of the six new men were near the entrance. Two positioned to see the entrance, the other two positioned to see the sentries. There was no way anybody was getting in here unannounced. As for the ship and the large opening through which it went, the new Ballistae had been installed atop the scaffolding just that morning, manned by the last of her new guards. Any seen coming in through that entrance was going to regret it.
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Post by watchoutsamusishere on Mar 25, 2018 1:06:12 GMT -5
Simon was quiet for some time, breathing slow. His eyes were closed but moving fast behind the lids, as though dreaming. Actually, he was stretching out with his awareness. Part of him, his spirit if one believed such things, was inside the grotto, reconnoitring. What he saw dismayed him greatly. Undoubtedly, he would die here. They all would. A group of dissimilar, self-serving adventurers, who knew not one another's capabilities but would have to trust in them all the same. He shied away from the bright essence of other mages, their essences bright splashes of colour in an otherwise monochromatic scene.
He listened intently to the others as they offered their opinions before offering his own. He looked to the bosmer: "There is a large opening on the other side of the cavern. It would be a cold swim, and a suicidal climb. There are ballistae guarding that entrance, but they are large clumsy things. Were they to see you, I doubt they could hit you. I do not know your skill with a bow, or stealth, but I am confident we will all die horribly if we enter that cavern head on. But were you and the Khadjit, for we have a similar gift in such matters, were to enter through the rear we shall provide a distraction from the front."
He turned to the Orsimers: "You are wearing Stalhrim," he indicated Harkanon,"and you can summon atronachs", now his eyes shifted to Sarkhan, "I can do neither of those things, but I can offer cold magic. Powerful. Destructive magicks. Between the three of us we could storm the front entrance. They are arrogant, with all defences facing that one direction. Were we to focus their attention, the other two could cut them down from behind like iron between a hammer and anvil (he hoped the smithing metaphor would appeal to the orcs). But there are mages inside. I can offer some healing and magical wards, but in my experience cutting a mage down with a physical weapon is quicker than magical combat. If we are lucky we won't die horribly. But we won't be, which is why I don't gamble. We could just give up and go home", he suggested brightly. "We can't fail if we don't try."
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Post by Rex Apium on Mar 26, 2018 17:11:17 GMT -5
Ivyeth stood quietly as those around her expressed their opinions. She honestly wasn't listening to them. She instead stared off into the mist to try and see what she could see of the cave. Had the mist been lighter, or even clear she was sure she could have seen into the cave. Probably could have made quick work of any guards that happened to be stupid enough to be outside.
It wasn't until Simon spoke that she turned to look toward the rest of the group. He'd addressed her directly, which is probably what helped draw her attention away from the mist. Apparently he was some sort of mage as he'd had a way to see into the grotto.
“He suggested we swim.”
“I hate swimming.”
Still Ivyeth listened as he kept speaking. He'd given them a solid plan, but she'd heard between his words. There was more in that grotto than they were expecting, more than the Queen or whatever had known about. Ivyeth turned to look back to the mist.
“Ballistae are useless against anything that isn't large. They can't move fast enough to hit a single person, or even a group of people unless it's a big group. We aren't a big group. Obviously... but it's not those I care about. I care about how many guards are in there. How many are facing the entrance you three will be going into while Fluffy and I go around back, and that's after we take a swim and climb a cliff, which... I don't know about you but I don't like any of those things.”
“In fact... this whole thing sounds like it's way more trouble than it's worth. How much were we getting paid for this again? What's her face even say? 'Cause I definently don't remember signing up to clean up some mess she and her sorry excuses for guards didn't bother to take care of until it was too late. Whole mission sounded like a Solitude problem from the beginning and I am definitely not that attached to Solitude... or Skyrim for that matter.”
Finally she turned away from the mist again to address the group directly and shrugged, “I agree with Simon. I saw just wash our hands of the whole thing and go find a tavern to get drunk in. We're basically walking out of this situation with a win considering we got to spend the night in a palace last night.”
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Post by Former Fiend on Mar 26, 2018 19:02:07 GMT -5
It had occurred to Harkanon that, had he wanted, he could wade out into the water and walk across the bottom, into that cave, and the bandits would never see it coming. You don't get stalhrim armor for any other reason than to put a more powerful frost-resistance enchantment on it, after all. Well, that wasn' true. Harkanon had other reasons. But that was a benefit; one that left him fairly unafraid of the icy waters around Skyrim, at that. Especially when combined with the waterbreathing enchantment he had on his helm.
But there was the question about what to do once inside. He wasn't built or trained for stealth. He had heard legends of thieves so sneaky they could stand right in front of you and you'd never know; so sneaky they could lift the armor you wore off your back. Harkanon was the exact opposite of that. He was big, loud, with shining blue-white armor & weapons. His foot steps were heavy and his battle cries were fierce, and he could only control one of those things.
And he was fully prepared to explain the utter impossibility of him sneaking in and employing stealth, the cat – the hairless one – spoke up, apparently knowing what was inside the cave. Some magic from Simon the Sorcerer. He described a force with prepared guards, sentries, and siege weapons.
And he suggested they all go home.
And the elf agreed with him.
“Well I'm convinced.” Harkanon said, as he started walking back towards the boat. “I signed on to take care of a few bandits. Not storm a fortified position that was prepared for an invasion with siege weaponry. Fuck that cave, fuck everyone in it, and fuck the queen.” He paused in his steps, turned back to face the others, and then pointed to the west. “I'm going that way. Two, maybe three days of rowing will put us in Jehanna in High Rock. Plenty of fine taverns & strong drink in Jehanna. If any of you want to head back to Skyrim from there, there's a road to Solitude. If you want to head back to Solitude now, well, you can swim to shore and walk along the coastline.”
With that, he turned back towards the boat and started pushing it back into the water.
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Panzer
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Post by Panzer on Mar 26, 2018 21:39:28 GMT -5
The older orsimer turned to the group, normally he would be all for holding them to their oaths, this time however he was willing to make a exception or several. Sarkhan had not lived this long by being dumb and charging into a fight that he had no way of winning, but also that he had no exterior motivation to be actually do this job. The spirits had pointed him to Solitude and so he had went, since then nothing, complete silence, and usually that meant he was doing something right. The mention of reward was brought up again, that he could care less about, it was the ineptitude of Solitude's leadership that really made him want to walk away.
"There was no reward offered, no reason to do this beyond her bloody Higness's say so." He spat on the ground "We were voluntold to do this job by a inept leader who allowed this to go on rather then shake the spears and deal with it. I agree with Harkanon, screw this cave, screw Solitude and most importantly fuck the Queen, may Malacath mount her head on a pike."
He looked west, the way Harkanon had planned on going, yes the west felt right for some reason. Skyrim may have been his home for one hundred and fifty years but he would be damned if he spent his twilight years being someones toady. "This course is agreeable to me, let them deal with their own problems for once, maybe by the time I return someone with half a brain might be High King or Queen." The shaman highly doubted it, there wasn't a person in his mind who could right the half sinking ship that was Skyrim but who knew, maybe in thirty or some years somebody might just be able to pull their head out of their behind. With that he joined Harkanon in getting the boat in the water.
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Post by Doozerpindan on Mar 31, 2018 23:44:18 GMT -5
The group, having decided to go against the request of the High Court, began sailing west in the small boat.
As they sailed away from the Grotto, they were unaware of several pairs of eyes watching them from above.
They moved quietly through the calm waters, with only the heavy mist and the bitterd bitter sting of Skyrim’s frozen north to keep them company. It would get warmer once they left Skyrim’s borders behind, but there was a fair amount of travel ahead of them still.
As they moved, the sky began to lighten, and the thick roiling mist which had hidden from them a Thalmor fortress, began to part. While they were far enough past the fortress that they could escape any Thalmor that might spot them, there lay ahead and further to the north a large structure that almost seemed to rise from the water itself.
Almost directly ahead of them and a little to the south, a small dock had been built into the shore. There were people at the dock, at least four and two large hounds. They were loading something onto a boat, something that moved frantically as they struggled to force it into a crate.
It was then that the fates seemed to wish to punish the makeshift crew for abandoning their mission, for the wind suddenly shifted, and carried their scents to the figures and their hounds. As one, they all turned their heads and fixed their gaze upon the group. Both the figures and the dogs had glowing red eyes that could be seen easily enough in the pre-dawn light.
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Post by Rex Apium on Apr 1, 2018 0:09:41 GMT -5
“Jehanna sounds good to me,” Ivyeth looked to Harkanon with a shrug. She'd neve been to High Rock before, and she was certain she could find plenty of things to keep herself occupied.
“Or in jail.”
“Let's try to not end up in jail, shall we?”
She squinted one of her eyes and looked up toward the sky as if thinking before shrugging to no one in general and motioning to the heavily armored orc to let her on the boat. She intended to sit as close to the front as possible. Partially because she was certain she had the best eyesight (aside from the cats, maybe, they could see in the dark) and she'd be able to spot anything in the distance that could cause a problem. That is all provided she wasn't busy at the time. She was a very busy person.
As luck would have it, Ivyeth spent a majority of the initial part of the boat ride paying very close attention to her surroundings. But as it got colder, she got less interested in anything else nearby and more interested in being angry at the cold and wondering why she left Valenwood to head north in the first place. At this point she didn't give a fuck about the rumors of Skyrim being so full of vampires you couldn't go three feet without tripping over one, she just wanted to be warm again.
Ivyeth was about to voice precisely what she thought about Skyrim and it's wonderful weather when the sight of the Thalmor fortress distracted her long enough from the cold to think about something else she hated. She hated a lot of things. In fact, with the mist cleared there were so many more things for Ivyeth to focus on, that being angry at Skyrim was far enough in the past she kept her thoughts to herself.
That is, until the dock came into view.
Maybe, just maybe, she would have ignored what was going on at the docks. That was actually fairly likely considering her very short attention span. But no, they had to be “unlucky” enough that the wind would change and alert those at the docks and their little dogs too.
Glowing red eyes spotting, Ivyeth stood, pulling the bow from her back. Immediately realizing she was on a boat and that was NOT a good idea, she crouched as she nocked an arrow, positioning herself so that she was as stable as she could be on the rocking boat. Ivyeth was good with her bow, real good. Not as good as she thought she was, but she was still good enough that from this distance, even accounting for the movement of the boat, she'd have no problem hitting one of the vampires.
The nice thing about her bow, aside from the fact it made a really good flashlight, was that she didn't need to aim for the throat or head when she was shooting at vampires. All she needed was to hit them in the chest, literally the easiest location to hit, and the fire would do the work for her. Didn't matter what kind of vampire you were, they were all incredibly allergic to fire. Which is exactly what happened.
Ivyeth let her arrow fly and was already drawing another to line up and make sure the vampire she hit the first time was super dead when her arrow struck true into its chest and Meridia's fire lit upon it. She grinned like a madwoman beneath her mask as she raised her bow a second time and took aim.
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Post by Former Fiend on Apr 10, 2018 19:15:46 GMT -5
Before the wind had shifted, before the figures on the beach had come into sight, Harkanon had caught the scent of blood and death on the wind. At first he hadn't been entirely sure of the source. He knew it wasn't simple battle; undead carried a particular stench about them that plain, rotten bodies didn't. But there were no shortage in the variety of undead things in Tamriel, and all Harkanon knew for sure was that whatever this kind was, he didn't want to meet it.
Of course, if there was one thing that had been proven by this past week, it was that the world didn't much care what Harkanon gro'Hraag wanted.
Before he could alter course, the current carried their small boat around a bend and within sight of the figures on the dock, who were soon alerted to their own presence by a shift in the wind. And of course, the figures were, to anyone with a trained eye, vampires.
Things started happening very quickly at that point.
Ivyeth stood quickly, rocking the boat as she loosed arrows at the creatures. Then the exchange began; vampires throwing spells at them, Simon and Sarkhan adding their own spells to Ivyeth's volley. Harkanon could have even sworn he saw Daro fling something at them with her tail as he tried his best to keep the boat steady. It was all he could do; he had no ranged weapons of his own. His aim was terrible.
With fire hurling through the air in both directions and people ducking and shifting to avoid it, the boat continued to rock, and several spells struck it's hull. This, of course, meant that their small craft was now both on fire and taking on water, and while the latter problem may solve the former, it wouldn't much matter given that it would solve it by sinking.
Harkanon let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a roar, half out of annoyance and frustration at what was going on and half out of the sheer physical effort he was putting in towards rowing this boat towards shore. His arms strained and ached as he forced the rocking, burning boat in the direction of their attackers, assaulting the sea with the oars.
His efforts were ultimately in vain as the water claimed the damaged craft, extinguishing the flames as it pulled it under the surf. Fortunately Harkanon had pulled them into shallow enough water that they could stand, at least. Grabbing his greatsword and jumping from the sinking boat, Harkanon found himself waist deep in the rolling waves.
Though, before he found proper footing, he was nearly lurched face first into the water by a sudden weight on his back. Looking up and back he saw that Daro had chosen to leap not onto the water but onto his shoulders. Cat's really didn't like to swim, it seemed. Fortunately the khajiit was small and light, and once he had a stable base under him, Harkanon could carry her with little effort.
There were certain advantages to heavy plate. Sure, he wasn't going to go swimming any time soon, but the weight did add to stability. The waves could batter and pull at the others, making it a struggle to wade through them, but Harkanon was a tower, unmoved by their pull. And the enchantments on his armor meant that the chill of the northern sea didn't slow his movements or sap his stamina. He cut through the water with relative ease as he charged towards the shore.
Once dry land was under his feet, Daro leaped off of his shoulders. He charged towards one vampire, she charged towards another. Vampires were formidable enemies. Vampires who had been battered by firebolts and Dawnbreaker, who had been seared by it's flame? Less so. A single, powerful swing of Harkanon's sword and the roaring orc brought one of the vampires low, crumpling and nearly cut in half by the blow.
The orc wrenched the stalhrim blade free and looked around to see if any of the others were still alive.
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Panzer
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Post by Panzer on Apr 19, 2018 15:35:55 GMT -5
The splash of the water was like the slap of a barwench to Sarkhan, but the sudden shock was enough to force the spell gutter out of existence. With a roar he rose from the icy water, they needed to do something about the rain of fireballs raining down on them, least none of them had decided to use a lightning bolt yet. Harkanon was currently busy wading through the water with a scared cat clinging to him, if he timed things right by the time his fellow orc reached shore he could have some reinforcements. It took a lot of energy to get in shallow enough water to begin casting again without being battered around by the waves, now came the tricky part though.
Sarkhan's voice dropped to a low deep growling tone as he began to summon reinforcements from the other realms. "Herald of fire and ash, harbinger of thunder and lightning, here my cry and call forth and serve me now!" Upon the shore the atronachs sprang into existence, one of flame and the other of lightning and went to work, throwing their magics into the fray causing some of the vampires to divert there attention from the group on the shore and those that remained in the water. His work was not quite done yet though, no this was just the beginning, he had enough strength to cast one more spell and he would need it if he was going to wander into the fray to help the others. Once again his voice dropped into the same low tone it had before, "Faithful spirit, everlasting companion, I call you forth to fulfill thy oath to me. Come old steward of the forest, master of the hunt, totem of the Grudvesheda clan, come and fulfill thy oath!"
The energy around Sarkhan crackled almost as if a bolt of lightning had struck nearby, it was almost palpable, and then a rip in the fabric of the world opened for a moment and out stepped a spectral stag. The stag stamped its hoof in the sand before turning back to regard the now fatigued orc before stepping to stand beside the shaman who called him. "Yes old friend once more to the battle you and I" as the shaman spoke he reached out to pet the spirit, "Once more I must rely on your strength, to the shore first though I think." With that he wrapped his arm around the stags neck and the last of his energy heaved himself on to the graceful beast, "Yes just a few minutes rest old friend, then I shall join you." As the older orc spoke the stag began its approach to the shore.
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Post by watchoutsamusishere on Apr 24, 2018 6:23:49 GMT -5
Simon stood(ish. I mean, it's loosely standing. I'm being generous: you could say huddled) on the deck of the sinking boat and waited to die; the thing was riddled with holes, and scuttled badly. But, he supposed sourly, the water would at least put the fires out. The boat listed to one side and he had to hold the bulwark to prevent himself falling off. He could see the shore: Harkanon had already made it there, and Sarkhan wasn't far behind. Sarkhan looked, for all the world, as might an evangelist sermonising the faithful. What a wonderfully distracting way to perform magic. Not that Simon could judge, clinging like a cat that was trying not to fall into a bath tub.
The fire fight had been brief, but frantic. The vampires had launched their offensive magic faster than him, but he had warded as much as he could, while attempting to return fire; in this case, literally fire. Obviously. He was aware of Ivyeth and her twanging bow, dimly, before everything went to shit and boat got all and orcs started jumping overboard. The ridiculous thing was it wasn't out of self-preservation, but blood lust. They just wanted to be closer so they could murder more things.
Having failed to protect the boat, or kill any vampires, Simon set the dogs on fire out of petty malice. He'd been bitten by a dog once. Fuck dogs.
He supposed he could swim to shore; it wasn't far, upon inspection, but more likely he'd have been eaten by a shark or some other terrible aquatic predator. Nope. Best he stay where he was and die with some dignity.
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