Winter Wolves (Part 3)
The group divides. Thurid to the left, and Aimarra and Mac to the right. As both groups reach their destinations they find massive white wolves battering down doors. The wolves successfully break the doors on either side. It looks as though Thurid has found two of the creatures, and the group consisting of Aimarra and Mac have found one. Though it's a bit hard to tell in the commotion of them spilling into the rooms that they had broken into.
The wolves disappear into the rooms, and Thurid can hear the pair that she's coming up on arguing over who gets to eat whom, and if there is someone in the hall. The sound of them moving around to good positions and the startled snorts of wakefulness from the occupants of the room are also audible.
Meanwhile the room that Aimarra and Mac are advancing on is dead silent save the clack-clack of nails on wooden floors.
GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon1+1: (7)+10+1: 18 GAME: Aimarra rolls 1d6+3: (3)+3: 6
Aimarra doesn't hesitate, but doesn't want to get in the way of the construct behind her. Instead, she raises her bow and levels it at the would-be silent stalker - and lets fly, sinking an arrow deep into its flank.
"Engaging threat," MAC informs it tromps to the wounded lupine with the stealth and grace of several hundred kilos of wood and metal.
GAME: Thurid casts Divine Power. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18
Thurid growls as she chases after the wolves, "There is a special hell for oathbreakers!" she calls after them. The heard of her earthbreaker and the blue of her eyes glow and crackle with sparks of lightning as she dashes after them, one hand clutching her holy symbol with one hand for a moment as she moves, "Mountain High, grant me the power to strike down these betrayers!" she calls out, adjusting her grip to hold the hammer ready with both hands as she skids to a stop, glaring at each of the wolves in turn.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (8)+10: 18 GAME: MAC-B1G rolls weapon4: (15)+15: 30 GAME: MAC-B1G rolls damage4: aliased to 2d6+8: (9)+8: 17
The wolves in the room that Thurid advances on have taken up positions around the bed that the waking farmer and his wife are laying on. The pair let out shocked and terrified noises, and move to the center of the bed in an effort to avoid the wolves but the wolves are large enough that... it's really a fuitile effort. "We did not agree with leaving this village alone. We were hungry! Why should we not eat?" One of the wolves growls at Thurid. The second nods in agreement with the first.
"Yes! We are hungry! We seek prey. Give us prey or we eat them instead!" The second one seems to have less command of the common tongue than the first.
In the other room, the wolf takes one look at Mac and realizes that he's not terribly edible, but Aimarra... Well it leaps at the woman growling and snarling, but her armor protects her from its snapping teeth effectively enough.
GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon2: (13)+9: 22 GAME: Aimarra rolls 1d8+3: (2)+3: 5 GAME: MAC-B1G rolls weapon4: (17)+15: 32
Yellowed, sharp fangs scrape across Aimarra's breastplate in a shower of sparks, the half-sil throwing herself backwards with a startled squeak as the gambit to allow the wargolem to cover her fails! The beautifully crafted short bow in her hands clattered woodenly to the planks of the floor, and metal rasps on leather as foul breath floods her senses. That was entirely too close for comfort, and she retaliates with the blade freshly in her hand, drawing crimson blood that stains white fur from the slash across the thing's flank. Not a deadly wound, but not nothing.
GAME: MAC-B1G rolls damage4: aliased to 2d6+8: (9)+8: 17
MAC-B1G's torso rotates to bring one metal appendage around and into the creature as it leaps past at Aimarra. The construct's legs rotate beneath further to flip its facing and then step to the relocated lupine. "Consumption of self-aware biological units prohibited!" it informs the creature. Just as another sledge-like forelimb slams down onto it, flattening the lupine down onto the floor.
"Cowards." Thurid issues forth towards the wolves then, standing up to her full height as she glares at the two of them. "Too weak to hunt the beasts of the field, you come to take men while they sleep." she says to the pair of them then- she relinquishes her grip on her hammer a moment to beat a fist against her chest. "If you wish a proper hunt, then try to take me. I can promise I am better sport than they are." she says to the pair of them, before readying her hammer once more and bracing her feet in case they take the challenge.
GAME: Thurid rolls weapon17+3: (5)+12+3: 20 GAME: Thurid rolls damage17: aliased to 2d6+7: (6)+7: 13 GAME: Thurid rolls 1d6: (4): 4 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (10)+10: 20 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+12: (8)+12: 20 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+7: (5)+7: 12 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6: (2): 2 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+7: (4)+7: 11 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6: (1): 1
As Thurid attacks the wolf for rushing her, it grabs ahold of her leg and gives it a good shake with its teeth. The weight of the wolf is hefty, but more concerning are the actions of the other wolf who curses loudly at the foolishness of its companion in attacking Thurid and grabs the farmer by his shoulder and starts to drag him toward the window. The farmer seems to faint immediately, to terrified to act and the arterial spray is equally worrying.
"We've got to help Thurid!" Almost as soon as the white wolf thuds motionless to the planks, Aimarra looks up and, her bow forgotten, turns and bolts for the door, dashing through the house to find the Warrior. She'll worry about the hunk of metal and its dangerous metal fists later - at least it's on her side right now, and she asks no questions.
"Directive acknowledged." MAC steps over the fallen wolf in pursuit of unit designate Aimarra to render co-assistance to unit designate Thurid. 'Run' may be an overstatement as it ..briskly plods out of the room and around the interior.
GAME: Thurid casts Spiritual Ally. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18 GAME: Thurid rolls bab+wisdom: (9)+6+4: 19 GAME: Thurid rolls 1d10+3: (6)+3: 9
Thurid brings her hammer sweeping down at an angle, catching the large wolf square in the jaw and sending it reeling a moment before it manages to press the attack against her- filling the room with the acrid scent of singed hair where the sparks surrounding the head of her maul arc into the creature's flesh. Seeing the other one hasn't taken the bait, she grunts in frustration- shoving the wolf away with the haft of her hammer she takes a step away from its jaws, releasing her grip a moment to clutch her holy symbol.
"Angoron, beset on all sides, give form to my spirit that it may bolster me against these foes." she beseeches. A ghostly shape takes form, looking much like a masculine version of her herself, holding the selfsame Earthbreaker. It dashes forth in a blur, interposing itself between the wolf and its escape route, and much like Thurid- brings the ephemeral hammer down on the creature.
GAME: Thurid rolls reflex: (7)+5: 12 GAME: Thurid rolls bab+wisdom: (14)+6+4: 24 GAME: Thurid rolls 1d10+3: (7)+3: 10 GAME: Aftershock rolls 6d6: (23): 23
The wolf fighting Thurid lets loose a blast of freezing air at her that she has no time to avoid, and it leaves the woman dripping in icicles. The wolf growls low in its throat, already prepared to bring down the prey that it sees as being weakened by its breath. The other wolf sees the apparition of Thurid's spirit and decides that the farmer himself is not worth the effort. Ripping and tearing flesh it tears his arm free and rushes past the spirit. It takes an attack in the process, but goes through the window without hesitation.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d4: (1): 1 GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon2: (7)+9: 16 GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon2-5: (13)+9+-5: 17 GAME: Aimarra rolls 1d8+3: (6)+3: 9
"Get away from her!" Aimarra dashes into the room behind Thurid at a dead run, her first strike skittering off of the thing's tough hide, but the second one finding pay dirt and once again turning yellow-white fur crimson.
MAC-B1G expects to still be en route or not yet in melee. Assuming there is room to get there in the confines.
GAME: Thurid rolls heal: (4)+15: 19 GAME: Thurid rolls 5d6: (23): 23 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (20)+10: 30 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+7: (4)+7: 11 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6: (4): 4 GAME: Aimarra rolls reflex: (4)+8: 12 GAME: Aftershock rolls 6d6: (15): 15
It is not often Thurid encounters cold deep enough to be unpleasant, much less painful, thanks to her Jotun blood- so the icy blast is a novel experience for her, and one she is not keen on repeating. She sets her Jaw against it, and glares back at it- only for Aimarra to make her way in. "Can you handle this one? I'll chase its companion." she tells the Ranger. She grips her holy symbol, and closes her eyes a moment- a wave of light surges forth from her, washing over her, her allies, and the wounded farmer.
In the same moment, a pair of wings formed of pure light emerge from her celestial armor, "You will be alright, and if I can help it, whole still." she assures the farmer as the positive energy seals the worst of his wounds. And then she is away, lifting from the ground and hurtling after the fleeing wolf- ignoring the bite to her leg as she passes the one still in the room.
The wolf left in the room lets loose with a second blast of wintery cold, this time directed at Aimarra, and the other wolf has practically vanished into the forest. Fleeing with the farmer's arm. The poor man himself is conscious once again thanks to Thurid's magic, but the loss of his limb has him utterly stunned and panicked.
GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon2+2: (3)+9+2: 14 GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon2+2-5: (17)+9+2+-5: 23 GAME: Aimarra rolls 1d8+3+2: (2)+3+2: 7
"Go on, I've got this one." Meanwhile, Aimarra's task is to make sure this wolf doesn't get a crack at the poor farmer. The blast of cold is unlike anything she's ever experienced before, even for someone who hates the cold as much as she does, leaving frost to rime hair and skin and leather and a bone-deep chill in its wake, along with the frostbite. The shock is enough to slow the ranger's first slash in response, but the second one strikes true, with an uncanny knowledge of where to strike that bites deep.
GAME: Thurid casts Holy Smite. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18 GAME: Thurid rolls 4d8: (22): 22 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+3: (5)+3: 8
Hurtling after the wolf towards the woods on wings of light, Thurid bellows after it- "Drop that this instant, and face me!" she lunges her hammer forwards, the head of it beginning to glow brightly, like a miniature sun in the dead of night. Suddenly, the glow flashes forwards, hurtling after the wolf- it explodes into a flash of blinding like which sears its flesh and eyes alike, accompanied by a terrible thunderclap.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (8)+10: 18 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d100: (40): 40
The wolf attacks Aimarra a second time, but its attack misses wildly. It seems that its teeth are not as effective as its breath.
Meanwhile the second wolf is blind, but still running through the forest. Disappearing between the trees and bushes as best it can. Though it's blinded and is only moving half as fast as it usually does.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d4: (2): 2 GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon2+2: (7)+9+2: 18 GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon2+2-5: (16)+9+2+-5: 22 GAME: Aimarra rolls 1d8+3+3: (5)+3+2: 10 GAME: Aimarra rolls 1d8+3+2: (1)+3+2: 6
Still locked in a furious fight, sweat combining with the frost riming face and hair, Aimarra works desperately to keep the thing's attention, opening more wounds, none of them deadly. This is not her primary weapon, after all.
GAME: Thurid rolls perception: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Thurid rolls weapon17+2+3: (14)+12+2+3: 31 GAME: Thurid rolls 1d100: (95): 95 GAME: Thurid rolls damage17+3+1d6: aliased to 2d6+7+3+1d6: (10)+7+3+(5): 25
Thurid hurtles into the woods after the beast, "I said give that back!" she bellows as she whips past low hanging branches and foliage, wincing as the whip of one such branch cuts her across the cheek. She swings her hammer, half blinded by the foliage, and brings it crashing down on top of the wolf's back- breaking its spine and driving it down into the ground. Panting, she brushes some hair from her face- and takes a look to see if she can spy that severed arm of the Farmer's. It's not too late, if she can bring it back.
GAME: Aimarra rolls reflex: (6)+8: 14 GAME: Aftershock rolls 6d6: (21): 21
The arm is laying not more than a few feet from the wolf.
The wolf attacking Aimarra backs off a little and breathes at her again. Trying to freeze her in her tracks.
GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon2+2: (7)+9+2: 18 GAME: Aimarra rolls weapon2+2-5: (2)+9+2+-5: 8 GAME: Aimarra rolls 1d8+2+3: (7)+2+3: 12
Thurid snatches up the severed arm, and then takes off once more- hurtling back as quickly as she can towards the farmhouse. "It's dead!" she shouts out to MAC jogging along as she passes him. She comes back in through the window, though she slows enough before passing through that she doesn't crash into any walls. She takes a moment to scan around, finding the wolf dead, she breathes a sigh of relief. "I thought the automaton would help you, I'm sorry to have left you alone with it." she tells Aimarra at once.
After alighting, she turns back to the Farmers. "I am sorry you have had to endure this." she tells them. "I know it has been terrifying, and painful. But do not lament- it will take some time, but on the morrow, I will pray to Angoron and I will be able to restore your lost arm." she assures him.
This time, the cold is so intense it threatens to freeze Aimarra where she stands. Nearly blinded by the frost on her face, her skin stiffened, cracked, and bleeding with frostbite, knowing somewhere that she needs to kill it quickly, or it will kill her, she desperately plunges her blade at the thing's heart - and nearly stops in shock when the blade slides between two ribs and plunges into its heart, leaving it to slump with a gurgle to the floor, bleeding horribly all over the farmhouse floor.
She drops to one knee, panting heavily.
The farmer looks from Thurid, to his arm, and... Well he turns over and is quite sick to his stomach. The fact that his arm has been displaced is nothing short of horrifying to the man and it takes him quite some time to recover enough to be grateful for the offer of the limb's return. The other farmer, his wife, is more gracious, and though she blanches at the sight of her husband's arm in someone else's hand she offers to take it and keep a hold on it until it can be returned to its natural place in the morning. She also offers you a room to stay in - if you want it.
-TBC