The Battle of Tarithnesti - Aftermath
04 Deepkolt 349 AC
Kysek, Ra'ziir, Cedron, and Shadow all fly over the battlefield, searching for survivors and any goblins who may be fleeing. Smoke rises from blasted craters and burned bodies. Romulus' conjured blizzard continues to rage throughout the remainder of the day and well into the night.
Elven scouts, under the supervision of Commander Parnitha, Ornforithalas, and Raven comb the field, finishing off those few humanoids unfortunate enough to have the survived the overwhelming magical onslaught unleashed upon them by the party's wizards. Raven begins counting the fallen and while he is unable to entire the raging snowstorm, he is able to confirm a little over one-hundred slain enemies. Sifting through the pieces of bodies left behind after being ripped apart by blasting spells, he is able to comfortably estimate at least forty more, although he admits that this number is probably low - bringing the confirmed number of those slain in at around seventy percent of the total force.
Eilra and Cassidy scout to both sides of the storm in search of worg tracks but find none, leading them to believe that all one-hundred members of the goblin cavalry perished in the arctic assault.
Ra'ziir and Kysek both praise and feed their respective griffons.
Cedron arrives at the command tent, looking to treat any injuries that the defenders of Tarithnesti may have sustained and finds surprisingly few. The majority of the elves protecting the town didn't even get a chance to directly engage the goblin army. Those few who are hurt were those who strayed too close to the clouds of poison gas or fiery explosions conjured by the wizards.
LATER THAT EVENING AFTER THE DREAM
Grotto wakes. Seeing the names of his kin named on the wall saddens him briefly but his heart quickly fills with pride that he was able to rid the realm of goblins that would have surely abused those of this land just as they did to him in the Grimmlands many years ago. Grotto smiles knowing his actions in this war will be pleasing to his gods. "A blood debt is owed. The payment long overdue. I will collect on this obligation."
05 Deepkolt 349 AC
Shortly before dawn, Romulus' blizzard ends. The trail leading back to the goblin camp is buried beneath close to two feet of snow. Worgs with their goblin riders, frozen solid mid-stride form a column of statues nearly 400' long. Many of these statues have limbs broken off, shattered by elven arrows the day before. As the spearmen fall upon them with a vengeance, Ornforithalas frowns. "That is going to be quite to mess to clean up when it thaws in the spring."
IN PARNITHA'S COMMAND CENTER
Cedron's voice cut through Commander Parnitha's war room. "It was too easy."
Around the minstrel-priest priest, elven captains look at each other uneasily.
Cedron continues, "The goblins had numbers on their side. They had discipline enough for worg cavalry. And yet, they brought no shamans, no wizards devoted to their cause, no siege engines, no dragons."
Commander Parnitha nods slowly, "The Dragonarmy, for all of its faults, is not wasteful of troops or materiel. They squander neither without purpose."
Romulus nods, "These goblins were easily routed - they had no means of defending themselves against the spells we were able to bring to bear against them. The Dragonarmies WILL react and send more powerful forces."
Commander Parnitha does not hesitate. Orders begin flowing immediately through elven runners. Horn signals echo softly through the forest.
“Recall the scouts. Prepare fallback positions. The Dragonarmy did not mean to win this battle. It was meant to measure. And now the Dragonarmies know exactly what kind of power stands in their path."
OVER IN THE TEMPORARY AERIE
Shadow had just finished walking Kysek through the ritual of permanency. The dark elf opens his Arcane Sight as Kysek casts his spells, one after another. High Sorcery, what the wizards of this world call the Weave, tightens around the former thief, now Knight of the Barrie Grange, wizard, and griffon rider; tightens as Kysek binds See Invisibility and Detect Magic into himself. The air buzzes with energy, the lingering chemical scent of multiple cloudkill spells, the tang of ozone from lightning bolts, and the charred smell of goblin flesh is carried along on the swirling currents. Kysek completes his castings. Instead of flaring outward, it sinks inward, settling around Kysek’s eyes. As the magic penetrates his body, he feels the eldritch energy push something else out - not blood, not life, but potential.
A hollow ache fills his chest.
Shadow places a hand on his friend's shoulder. "That's the tether, allow it to bind itself to you, don't let it fray."
Kysek blows out a slow, long breath and opens his eyes. The world shifts. Magic is everywhere. Transmutation spells shaping the trees of the forest, the abjurations bound in Shadow’s bracers and his own clothing, the powerful enhancements in the drow's rapier - magic so potent that the leather of the sheath can only partially obscure it.
He rocks unsteadily as his vision adjusts after about a minute.
Then he repeats the process, only this time, he turns his spells onto his griffon, Dusk.
After completing the second set of spells, he raises one hand, the one bearing the Ring of Gyges and twists the inset gem.
He vanishes from normal sight. But to her now-enhanced vision, he stands plainly outlined in faint distortion, edges shimmering with transmutation magic. When she glances at herself after the second test, she sees the same ghostly silhouette. Dusk's mouth opens in the approximation of a grin. Her shriek is triumphant.
Shadow flips the dagger that he calls the Nasty Surprise in his hand, weaving Invisibility into it. It vanishes - but to Kysek’s newly empowered eyes, it glows faintly.
The dark elf grins as he feels potential leaving his body. "Worth it."
OUT IN THE CHOKEPOINT
Grotto’s axes rise and fall, shattering frozen goblins and worgs with each swing. Icy limbs fall to the earth and are stomped into bits beneath his feet. His breath steams in the cold air, a combination of the season and the aftereffects of Romulus' deadly blizzard.
The dwarf does not see the battlefield. He sees the slave pits. He sees chains. He sees a brazier of hot coals. He feels the runes beneath his skin, their warmth spreading through his body with each strike.
He feels joy, not just his own, but that of the god empowering him. A voice just beyond the edge of his hearing whispers, too soft for him to make out over the shattering of ice-rimed bodies. But Grotto knows that the words being spoken are the name of his god.
AT THE GOBLIN CAMP
Raven and Eilra walk into the goblin camp with the twenty scouts of Ra'ziir's company while the bladesinger circles overhead on Dusk.
Cedron's voice cut through Commander Parnitha's war room. "It was too easy."
Around the minstrel-priest priest, elven captains look at each other uneasily.
Cedron continues, "The goblins had numbers on their side. They had discipline enough for worg cavalry. And yet, they brought no shamans, no wizards devoted to their cause, no siege engines, no dragons."
Commander Parnitha nods slowly, "The Dragonarmy, for all of its faults, is not wasteful of troops or materiel. They squander neither without purpose."
Romulus nods, "These goblins were easily routed - they had no means of defending themselves against the spells we were able to bring to bear against them. The Dragonarmies WILL react and send more powerful forces."
Commander Parnitha does not hesitate. Orders begin flowing immediately through elven runners. Horn signals echo softly through the forest.
“Recall the scouts. Prepare fallback positions. The Dragonarmy did not mean to win this battle. It was meant to measure. And now the Dragonarmies know exactly what kind of power stands in their path."
OVER IN THE TEMPORARY AERIE
Shadow had just finished walking Kysek through the ritual of permanency. The dark elf opens his Arcane Sight as Kysek casts his spells, one after another. High Sorcery, what the wizards of this world call the Weave, tightens around the former thief, now Knight of the Barrie Grange, wizard, and griffon rider; tightens as Kysek binds See Invisibility and Detect Magic into himself. The air buzzes with energy, the lingering chemical scent of multiple cloudkill spells, the tang of ozone from lightning bolts, and the charred smell of goblin flesh is carried along on the swirling currents. Kysek completes his castings. Instead of flaring outward, it sinks inward, settling around Kysek’s eyes. As the magic penetrates his body, he feels the eldritch energy push something else out - not blood, not life, but potential.
A hollow ache fills his chest.
Shadow places a hand on his friend's shoulder. "That's the tether, allow it to bind itself to you, don't let it fray."
Kysek blows out a slow, long breath and opens his eyes. The world shifts. Magic is everywhere. Transmutation spells shaping the trees of the forest, the abjurations bound in Shadow’s bracers and his own clothing, the powerful enhancements in the drow's rapier - magic so potent that the leather of the sheath can only partially obscure it.
He rocks unsteadily as his vision adjusts after about a minute.
Then he repeats the process, only this time, he turns his spells onto his griffon, Dusk.
After completing the second set of spells, he raises one hand, the one bearing the Ring of Gyges and twists the inset gem.
He vanishes from normal sight. But to her now-enhanced vision, he stands plainly outlined in faint distortion, edges shimmering with transmutation magic. When she glances at herself after the second test, she sees the same ghostly silhouette. Dusk's mouth opens in the approximation of a grin. Her shriek is triumphant.
Shadow flips the dagger that he calls the Nasty Surprise in his hand, weaving Invisibility into it. It vanishes - but to Kysek’s newly empowered eyes, it glows faintly.
The dark elf grins as he feels potential leaving his body. "Worth it."
OUT IN THE CHOKEPOINT
Grotto’s axes rise and fall, shattering frozen goblins and worgs with each swing. Icy limbs fall to the earth and are stomped into bits beneath his feet. His breath steams in the cold air, a combination of the season and the aftereffects of Romulus' deadly blizzard.
The dwarf does not see the battlefield. He sees the slave pits. He sees chains. He sees a brazier of hot coals. He feels the runes beneath his skin, their warmth spreading through his body with each strike.
He feels joy, not just his own, but that of the god empowering him. A voice just beyond the edge of his hearing whispers, too soft for him to make out over the shattering of ice-rimed bodies. But Grotto knows that the words being spoken are the name of his god.
AT THE GOBLIN CAMP
Raven and Eilra walk into the goblin camp with the twenty scouts of Ra'ziir's company while the bladesinger circles overhead on Dusk.
The goblin camp stands abandoned. A few dead warriors, those goblins Shadow charmed and turned against their comrades, lie scattered on the ground, alongside whatever attackers they managed to take down before being felled. Cookfires still burn. Supplies remain and thr scouts begin looting, taking what remains unspoiled.
Raven enters the central command tent but finds that it has been stripped.
Maps gone, orders gone, battle standards removed.
Circling above, Ra'ziir sees them first - the massive clawed footprints of a dragon and the lower half of a hobgoblin body with blood scattered all around.
Raven enters the central command tent but finds that it has been stripped.
Maps gone, orders gone, battle standards removed.
Circling above, Ra'ziir sees them first - the massive clawed footprints of a dragon and the lower half of a hobgoblin body with blood scattered all around.
Comments
Post a Comment