Day Four of the Odinsleep (Carnage on the Wall)
Day Four of the Odinsleep (5pm)
Korbin joins the circling Valkyries high above the city. The plains spread out before him. Carnage litters the battlefield, with hundreds, nay, thousands of dead and dying scattered amongst the warriors still fighting below. Nearly every creature below could serve as the raw materials for the constructed monstrosity Korbin saw in his dream – the vision that ended with Loki on the throne of Asgard.
- - - - - - - - - -
Arthur does his best to shake off his injuries and fatigue from the prolonged battle. He raises his holy blade and lifts his shield and steps forward boldly, slashing with his silvered weapon. Brilliant light flares as his blade crashes into the flesh of the evil giant. The final blow, the one aided by the spell of speed smashes into the ankle of the brute, cracking the bone and eliciting a howl from the massive Jotun.
Drax dodges nimbly between the thunderous steps of Jotun feet, angling into position to strike once more and he lashes out with both of his blades. His cuts are deep and precise, blood flows in a river from the giant’s lower legs, leaving the top of the wall awash in the dark red fluids but the Jotun barely seems to feel the wounds, lost in his unthinking rage, oblivious to all but the most grievous of injuries.
Grotto angles his flight toward Cedron once he sees his fellow healer take a devastating hit, the words of a prayer to Hanseath on his lips. The scarred dwarf alights, holy symbol in hand as he places the other on the minstrel priest’s shoulder and magic flows from his stubby gnarled fingers, mending Cedron’s hurts through the dwarven battle god’s grace.
Kysek, shaken by the power of even a glancing blow from the Jotun bides his time once more, waiting for the perfect moment to…
STRIKE!
The thief rolls forward, the magic of his invisibility ring briefly suppressed by his attack and stabs with Blackflame and White Faerie. Both blades bite flesh, carving through meat and sinew but the Jotun continues on, his rage unabated as he turns to face the flying bladesinger floating just beyond the wall.
Cedron nods his thanks to Grotto and before flipping up the hood of his cloak and vanishing from sight. Once concealed, he begins casting a spell, weaving an illusion high in the air. He causes the clouds to darken and take on the ominous rumble of thunder. Flashes of lightning concealed in the darkness dance here and there above and the silhouette of a man in a goat-drawn chariot begins to coalesce. Sweat beads on Cedron’s brow as he concentrates, trying to recall every detail of our previous sighting of Thor so he adds the smell of ozone and the braying of the two goats, the jangling of the bells on their harness. One of the Jotuns, this one pulled halfway to the top of the wall looks up and blanches. He drops from the precipice and begins backing away. The enraged Jotun takes no notice while the last two berate their fellow for being a coward and continue to pull themselves up.
Desmond and Niklas, seeing that their arrows are having little effect, aim lower, seeking to strike the wounds opened by their companions. The woodsman’s first three arrows are horribly off their mark but the last one strikes the Jotun in the shin just above Arthur’s shoulder. The sergeant’s arrows are much more tightly grouped and his powerful bow launches the javelin-sized shafts with tremendous force. Three of his arrows sink deeply in the Jotun’s knee while one skips off into the distance and is lost.
Morn begins moving forward, his whip at the ready, boldly shouting words of encouragement to his companions as he closes in on the wounded giant,
“If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
Odin's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from Asgard:
Odin's peace! I would not lose so great an honor
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Odin:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Odin.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say 'To-morrow is Odin’s Day’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Odin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words…”
The Truesilver Whip dances in his hands as he advances. The bard, once possessed by the ghost of a dragon moves ever closer and wills the lash to lengthen and at last, as the giant’s head bobs, he snaps his wrist forward, the enchanted leather reaching for the titan’s eyes. His blow strikes tantalizing close to the mark but the Jotun turns its head and takes a lash across the cheek instead.
Ra’ziir hovers just beyond the reach of the Jotun axe, knocked back by the force of the blow he took earlier and chants, “Cutis ex Petra”. His skin hardens, taking on the dull cast of unpolished granite and his flies forward, Grumbar’s Razor in hand, the vorpal weapon trailing smoke as the bladesigner closes on his foe. The Jotun swings as the elf-emental comes in range, striking at the same time as Ra’ziir. The Jotun’s axe crashes into Ra’ziir’s body with the weight of an avalanche, blasting through the eldritch knight’s magical defenses to deliver a punishing blow. Ra’ziir gives as good as he gets though, slashing the Jotun repeatedly across both of its arms. As he falls away, breathing hard from the exchange, it is nearly impossible for him to believe that the giant is standing at all. Every inch of it is covered in blood, the flesh of its legs hang in tatters, its arms are nearly as bad off and its broken ankle should not be able to support its massive weight. Yet here, before him, surrounded by the most capable adventurers the elf has ever known, this Jotun still draws breath, ready to continue fighting to the bitter end.
Shadow, still hauling Raven along by the arm utters the incantation “Δύναμη του ταύρου” and strength flows into the warrior’s muscles – enchanting his strength to superhuman levels and calls out, “Which on first?” Raven shouts back, “Drop me on one of the bastards climbing the wall! I’ll take it from there!”
“Will do, Raven! Death from above!” The dark elf banks sharply and begins to dive, picking up speed and releases his elven companion. Raven drops through the air; his ballistic trajectory carrying him toward the nearest of the towering Jotun. As he falls, he draws Thorgrim, his cursed giant-slaying blade and everything goes red….
Raven crashes down on the back of the giant’s neck, roaring his primal hate into the monster’s ear. Nightwatcher and Thorgrim split flesh as the elf ferociously tears into the back of the brute’s neck and shoulders. The giant shrieks in pained surprise and lets go of the wall, dropping back to the ground as it spins, reaching for its tormentor and takes a slashing cut across the palm of one hand for its trouble.
The Jotun atop the parapet, barely standing on feet chops furiously at Ra’ziir. The elf dodges away from the first blow but the giant plants its foot, reverses its swing and catches the bladesinger on the return pass, nearly taking his head from his body. It raises its axe overhead and brings it down with a horrifying finality, smashing the elf-emental squarely in the face, nearly knocking him out of the air. Ra’ziir tumbles head over heels as he tries to correct his trajectory but the blood running into his eyes and possibly shattered nose makes it next to impossible for him to tell up from down but does keep the giant’s final swing from ending his life.
The Jotun with Raven on his back turns and hurls himself bodily against the wall. Raven is caught between the giant and the stone and has the air blasted out of him and falls to the ground. The Jotun raises his axe and brings it crashing down on the elf. Miraculously, Raven manages to accidentally get out of way by charging back in at the Jotun but the next two sings both clip him as he races in to continue the fight.
Shadow’s water elemental sloshes over the broken ground, flowing around and over trees and bushes, passing the Jotun that Cedron scared away with his illusory thunder god and washes up against the base of the wall right behind the final Jotun as it drags itself up and over the lip of the parapet above.
In Hel, Idunn kicks off of the Jotun she dragged to the Realm of the Dead and disappears. She rematerializes atop the wall, her godly senses instantly taking in the carnage all around her.
= = = = = =
• Haste – all except Korbin and Raven (5 rounds remaining)
• Inspire Courage +2 – all except Korbin, Raven, and Shadow (as long as Morn speaks plus 5 rounds, +2 hit/dmg/save vs fear and charm)
• Arthur: 51% health;
• Bubo: 100% health;
• Cedron: 70% health; True Seeing (9 minutes, 7 rounds remaining); Displacement (9 rounds remaining); Tiger from the Bag of Tricks (62% health, 9 minutes, 8 rounds remaining), Major Image (Concentration plus 3 rounds)
• Desmond: 94% health;
• Drax: 71% health; Greater Invisibility (2 rounds remaining)
• Grotto: 100% health;
• Hansuke: 62% health;
• Korbin: 100% health;
• Kysek: 77% health; Stoneskin (90%, 99 minutes, 8 rounds remaining)
• Morn: 100% health;
• Niklas: 100% health;
• Raven: 68% health;
• Ra’ziir: 6% health; Fly (16 minutes, 0 rounds remaining), Giant Size (+16 Str/-2 Dex,/+4 Con, +3 Nat AC/-2 hit and AC from size; sword damage increases to 3d6+21; 7 rounds remaining); Stoneskin (87%, 210 minutes, 0 rounds remaining)
• Shadow: 100% health; Overland Flight (16 hours, 58 minutes, 8 rounds remaining), Stoneskin (100%, 169 minutes, 4 rounds remaining), Monster Summoning VIII (12 rounds remaining)
• Spewer: 100% health
Korbin joins the circling Valkyries high above the city. The plains spread out before him. Carnage litters the battlefield, with hundreds, nay, thousands of dead and dying scattered amongst the warriors still fighting below. Nearly every creature below could serve as the raw materials for the constructed monstrosity Korbin saw in his dream – the vision that ended with Loki on the throne of Asgard.
- - - - - - - - - -
Arthur does his best to shake off his injuries and fatigue from the prolonged battle. He raises his holy blade and lifts his shield and steps forward boldly, slashing with his silvered weapon. Brilliant light flares as his blade crashes into the flesh of the evil giant. The final blow, the one aided by the spell of speed smashes into the ankle of the brute, cracking the bone and eliciting a howl from the massive Jotun.
Drax dodges nimbly between the thunderous steps of Jotun feet, angling into position to strike once more and he lashes out with both of his blades. His cuts are deep and precise, blood flows in a river from the giant’s lower legs, leaving the top of the wall awash in the dark red fluids but the Jotun barely seems to feel the wounds, lost in his unthinking rage, oblivious to all but the most grievous of injuries.
Grotto angles his flight toward Cedron once he sees his fellow healer take a devastating hit, the words of a prayer to Hanseath on his lips. The scarred dwarf alights, holy symbol in hand as he places the other on the minstrel priest’s shoulder and magic flows from his stubby gnarled fingers, mending Cedron’s hurts through the dwarven battle god’s grace.
Kysek, shaken by the power of even a glancing blow from the Jotun bides his time once more, waiting for the perfect moment to…
STRIKE!
The thief rolls forward, the magic of his invisibility ring briefly suppressed by his attack and stabs with Blackflame and White Faerie. Both blades bite flesh, carving through meat and sinew but the Jotun continues on, his rage unabated as he turns to face the flying bladesinger floating just beyond the wall.
Cedron nods his thanks to Grotto and before flipping up the hood of his cloak and vanishing from sight. Once concealed, he begins casting a spell, weaving an illusion high in the air. He causes the clouds to darken and take on the ominous rumble of thunder. Flashes of lightning concealed in the darkness dance here and there above and the silhouette of a man in a goat-drawn chariot begins to coalesce. Sweat beads on Cedron’s brow as he concentrates, trying to recall every detail of our previous sighting of Thor so he adds the smell of ozone and the braying of the two goats, the jangling of the bells on their harness. One of the Jotuns, this one pulled halfway to the top of the wall looks up and blanches. He drops from the precipice and begins backing away. The enraged Jotun takes no notice while the last two berate their fellow for being a coward and continue to pull themselves up.
Desmond and Niklas, seeing that their arrows are having little effect, aim lower, seeking to strike the wounds opened by their companions. The woodsman’s first three arrows are horribly off their mark but the last one strikes the Jotun in the shin just above Arthur’s shoulder. The sergeant’s arrows are much more tightly grouped and his powerful bow launches the javelin-sized shafts with tremendous force. Three of his arrows sink deeply in the Jotun’s knee while one skips off into the distance and is lost.
Morn begins moving forward, his whip at the ready, boldly shouting words of encouragement to his companions as he closes in on the wounded giant,
“If we are mark'd to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
Odin's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from Asgard:
Odin's peace! I would not lose so great an honor
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Odin:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Odin.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say 'To-morrow is Odin’s Day’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Odin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words…”
The Truesilver Whip dances in his hands as he advances. The bard, once possessed by the ghost of a dragon moves ever closer and wills the lash to lengthen and at last, as the giant’s head bobs, he snaps his wrist forward, the enchanted leather reaching for the titan’s eyes. His blow strikes tantalizing close to the mark but the Jotun turns its head and takes a lash across the cheek instead.
Ra’ziir hovers just beyond the reach of the Jotun axe, knocked back by the force of the blow he took earlier and chants, “Cutis ex Petra”. His skin hardens, taking on the dull cast of unpolished granite and his flies forward, Grumbar’s Razor in hand, the vorpal weapon trailing smoke as the bladesigner closes on his foe. The Jotun swings as the elf-emental comes in range, striking at the same time as Ra’ziir. The Jotun’s axe crashes into Ra’ziir’s body with the weight of an avalanche, blasting through the eldritch knight’s magical defenses to deliver a punishing blow. Ra’ziir gives as good as he gets though, slashing the Jotun repeatedly across both of its arms. As he falls away, breathing hard from the exchange, it is nearly impossible for him to believe that the giant is standing at all. Every inch of it is covered in blood, the flesh of its legs hang in tatters, its arms are nearly as bad off and its broken ankle should not be able to support its massive weight. Yet here, before him, surrounded by the most capable adventurers the elf has ever known, this Jotun still draws breath, ready to continue fighting to the bitter end.
Shadow, still hauling Raven along by the arm utters the incantation “Δύναμη του ταύρου” and strength flows into the warrior’s muscles – enchanting his strength to superhuman levels and calls out, “Which on first?” Raven shouts back, “Drop me on one of the bastards climbing the wall! I’ll take it from there!”
“Will do, Raven! Death from above!” The dark elf banks sharply and begins to dive, picking up speed and releases his elven companion. Raven drops through the air; his ballistic trajectory carrying him toward the nearest of the towering Jotun. As he falls, he draws Thorgrim, his cursed giant-slaying blade and everything goes red….
Raven crashes down on the back of the giant’s neck, roaring his primal hate into the monster’s ear. Nightwatcher and Thorgrim split flesh as the elf ferociously tears into the back of the brute’s neck and shoulders. The giant shrieks in pained surprise and lets go of the wall, dropping back to the ground as it spins, reaching for its tormentor and takes a slashing cut across the palm of one hand for its trouble.
The Jotun atop the parapet, barely standing on feet chops furiously at Ra’ziir. The elf dodges away from the first blow but the giant plants its foot, reverses its swing and catches the bladesinger on the return pass, nearly taking his head from his body. It raises its axe overhead and brings it down with a horrifying finality, smashing the elf-emental squarely in the face, nearly knocking him out of the air. Ra’ziir tumbles head over heels as he tries to correct his trajectory but the blood running into his eyes and possibly shattered nose makes it next to impossible for him to tell up from down but does keep the giant’s final swing from ending his life.
The Jotun with Raven on his back turns and hurls himself bodily against the wall. Raven is caught between the giant and the stone and has the air blasted out of him and falls to the ground. The Jotun raises his axe and brings it crashing down on the elf. Miraculously, Raven manages to accidentally get out of way by charging back in at the Jotun but the next two sings both clip him as he races in to continue the fight.
Shadow’s water elemental sloshes over the broken ground, flowing around and over trees and bushes, passing the Jotun that Cedron scared away with his illusory thunder god and washes up against the base of the wall right behind the final Jotun as it drags itself up and over the lip of the parapet above.
In Hel, Idunn kicks off of the Jotun she dragged to the Realm of the Dead and disappears. She rematerializes atop the wall, her godly senses instantly taking in the carnage all around her.
= = = = = =
• Haste – all except Korbin and Raven (5 rounds remaining)
• Inspire Courage +2 – all except Korbin, Raven, and Shadow (as long as Morn speaks plus 5 rounds, +2 hit/dmg/save vs fear and charm)
• Arthur: 51% health;
• Bubo: 100% health;
• Cedron: 70% health; True Seeing (9 minutes, 7 rounds remaining); Displacement (9 rounds remaining); Tiger from the Bag of Tricks (62% health, 9 minutes, 8 rounds remaining), Major Image (Concentration plus 3 rounds)
• Desmond: 94% health;
• Drax: 71% health; Greater Invisibility (2 rounds remaining)
• Grotto: 100% health;
• Hansuke: 62% health;
• Korbin: 100% health;
• Kysek: 77% health; Stoneskin (90%, 99 minutes, 8 rounds remaining)
• Morn: 100% health;
• Niklas: 100% health;
• Raven: 68% health;
• Ra’ziir: 6% health; Fly (16 minutes, 0 rounds remaining), Giant Size (+16 Str/-2 Dex,/+4 Con, +3 Nat AC/-2 hit and AC from size; sword damage increases to 3d6+21; 7 rounds remaining); Stoneskin (87%, 210 minutes, 0 rounds remaining)
• Shadow: 100% health; Overland Flight (16 hours, 58 minutes, 8 rounds remaining), Stoneskin (100%, 169 minutes, 4 rounds remaining), Monster Summoning VIII (12 rounds remaining)
• Spewer: 100% health
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