Blow Your House Down
GAME: Telamon casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 12 DC: 18 GAME: Telamon casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 12 DC: 22 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 12 DC: 18 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 12 DC: 22 GAME: Telamon used a Wand of False Life. GAME: Telamon rolls 1d10+6: (4)+6: 10 GAME: Verna casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 19 DC: 18
Around midnight, in deepest part of the night, the rain started back up again. An icy fall of fairly heavy rain that was mixed with snow. Nothing sticks to the wet ground, but the ice formed by puddles of frozen rain make walking treacherous. Worse is the wind that howls along the surface of the thick mist that continues to cling to the world. It bangs at Dirk's shutters and door, making every sound one that fills the cabin with tension.
At the same time other sounds creep into hearing. Excited barks, a notable howl that echoes through the rafters and is picked up by voice after voice. They are gathering outside, and the garlic you have hanging in the windows will do little to stop the forces that are being arrayed outside.
Every sound is one that keeps you from any sort of restfulness. Reminds you that you are hunted. The hours slip by so slowly. Like time itself is working against you. Eventually the sky begins to lighten moment by moment, and you know that soon enough _something_ is going to have to give.
Patch had been trying to rest on the floor of the cabin, having wedged herself in the space between the coffee table and the seat she'd been sitting in earlier in the night. She's trying to be anywhere but in view of the windows. Her cloak pulled tight as she sighs in the near dark, using the fabric as a blanket. It conceals her rapier next to her beneath it, her pack used as a pillow. Waiting sucks. It's stressful. "Alexandria's weather has poor timing." she observes to no one in particular. Just talking into the night. "As if the night wasn't shit enough."
As if Dolan is likely to sleep. The images of last night's hunt, a pair of green eyes and a pair of inebriated ones, haunt any attempt at dreams he might make, if indeed he can forget the feel of cold stone and colder chains long enough to do so. For other places and other times are still far too fresh in his mind, and this newfound horror only adds to it.
The worst part is that the green eyes are, right now, the lesser haunt.
Still, the immediacy of howls and voices accompanying the ice storm outside is enough to drag him out of reverie. By morning, there are dark circles under his eyes, across the ridge where his right eye should be, the golden gem just a little sunken in its socket. He's been silent for much of the night, turning occasionally to bow his head with his holy symbol in his hand. "Yeah," he finally says, shortly. Just one word, but it's the first word he's said.
Dirk sits with his back to the wall beneath one of the shuttered windows. Quietly smoking his pipe, with his thunderbelcher sits across his lap, his expression a dour scowl. Like Dolan, he hasn't slept a wink. His usually cheerful eyes are sunken, the bags beneath them stained a dark bruise purple and his shaggy brows drooping wearily. But he remains stoic, refusing to abandon his vigil and drift off. This is -his- home. Patch and Dolan are -his- friends. He's not going to be caught snoozing while the likes of Kol and Zalgiman stalk the night for them.
He glances up as a rumble of thunder sends a fresh wave of frigid rain washing over his windows. "Yer nae wrong there, lassie," he growls around a gust of pipe smoke. "Here's tae hopin' it keeps Zalgiman's flea-bitten arse away. He turns his weary gaze to the clock atop his mantlepiece. "It'll be sunup soon. Just a wee bit longer," he mutters. "I just hope Lulu got the word tae Telamon an' Cor'lana all right."
Suddenly a voice, familiar in its accent and cadence breaks through the lingering darkness. Along with the sound of 'plink, plink' against the door. "Let me in, let me in. We can have a nice talk." There's the sound of growling around the edges of his words, as if the wolves aren't particularly happy with this thought. "Better than the wolves bringing your little cabin down yes?" Kol sounds lightly amused.
"Oh, it figures the shit would follow the shithead." Patch's tone dripping with sarcasm at Kol's words. They have her sitting up and jostling to the ready. Her mouthy nature somewhat a defense to the situation, lest she be reduced to shivers and inactivity if she can't have some bravado.
"Kol really can't come in?" Patch asks quickly asks of Dirk, her weapon unsheathed, and held at the ready. "How fast could Lulu fly? How long does that kind of message take?" she asks. It's true, she's not a pigeoneer. Owlneer? Whatever.
"Fuck. He's found us." Dolan scrambles to his feet, the harness coming easily off of his greatsword, his eyes no less sunken and weary than the dwarf's, but just as determined. With the lines of his mouth grim-set, he stashes the harness roughly in his pack. "Anything you don't want him to find, Dirk, shove it in my pack, it's bigger than it looks." Fear is laced behind the words, but he mutters to himself, "I'm never going to be fucking prey again. Never. Holy Knight, bringer of warmth and light, if I find the Grey Halls tonight, guide me into Your sunlit home. I'll die before I surrender."
Once standing, his greatsword point down against the floor, he reaches for his holy symbol with his free hand. "Holy Sunlord, be my shield in this, my last stand."
GAME: Dolan casts Shield of Faith. Caster Level: 6 DC: 14
Dirk startles at a fresh rumble of thunder, reaching up to take ahold of his pipe. "Beards o' me -fathers-!" he squeaks. It takes a moment for him to relax, rubbing vigorously at his face with his free hand. "I don't know," he says in answer to Patch's question. "I've never had tae send 'er on a long trip like that afore. Owls can fly pretty fast, but... they're strike predators. They can sustain quick bursts, an' they -can- migrate, but..."
The voice from outside cuts him off. His face turns white as milk. "Dana save us," he whispers tightly. He leaps to his feet, reaching up to set his pipe atop the mantelpiece. Looking over to Dolan, he swallows hard and nods. He trundles over to the footlocker at the foot of his bed and hauls it open. Rummaging inside, he retrieves a small statue that is all-too familiar to some by now.
"Here," he says, hurrying back over and stuffing it into Dolan's knapsack. That done, he presses his back to the wall, lifting his thunderbelcher with a determined scowl. "Kol cannae get in," he says to Patch, holding his weapon in a death grip. "Zalgiman an' his lycans can. When they come... unleash everything ye got." His eyes drift closed and he draws a deep, calming breath. "O Blessed Lady... save us, an' deliver us from evil," he mutters quietly. Turning his face towards his shuttered window, he bellows back. "I ONLY GOT ONE THING TO SAY TAE YOU, KOL!" He racks his weapon. CHK-CHAK! "GO DRINK YER MOTHER'S DUSTY PISS, YE FUCKIN' BEARDLESS SHITE!"
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+5: (10)+5: 15
The response is a laugh from Kol. Something that Dirk said certainly amused him, and then there's silence.
Silence.
The door bursts in a moment later, a snarling wolf standing at the doorframe, growling ominously and you can see more wolves behind waiting for their chance to get inside. The door itself hangs by a single hinge, allowing cold air to sweep into Dirk's cabin like an ominous omen.
All seems lost. And yet... suddenly, at the turn of the tide! A pair of forms come rocketing in over the tree tops. One flies on shimmering blue and violet wings, the other on six stiff planes of force, like sails. Telamon holds onto Lana's hand, as they soar over the last treetop to see Dirk's cabin.
"Cor'lana," Telamon says in a surprisingly calm voice. "It seems Dirk has unwanted houseguests. Shall we inform them that he is no longer receiving visitors?" His starry eyes blaze with light and fury, ready to, as the parlance goes, 'bring it'.
Cor'lana's not smiling as she looks down at the scene, her violet eyes scanning the house and the scene below. "Yes, let's send the dogs home and invite the vampire to sink his fangs into a bottomless pit," she replies, her ethereal wings 'flapping' behind her. "I won't tolerate anyone being trapped inside a house so long as I live."
Her violet eyes focus on Kol. "There's one," she murmurs. "Where's the lecher? I've got some magic for him in /particular/."
A third half-sil cuts through the air as rapidly as the others, if not as majestically. Rather than winged nor planed, Verna is... potted, as her conveyance is a sizable iron cauldron. Her hood is doffed by the breeze, leaving her eyes and countenance apparent with the latter reacting to the former locking upon the wolves and ... "Kol Demontry!"
There is much behind this exclamation, which prompts a follow-on to her aerial companions, "Be mindful! This is no small threat!"
GAME: Verna casts Greater Angelic Aspect. Caster Level: 19 DC: 25
"By the Harpist's Will" Verna utters; one part beseechment and the other statement before she dismounts her conveyance with a leap while it is airborne. Yet she does not fall, as silvery wingforms seeming no more solid than mist sprout from her and bring her to hover as her Mistress' own power infuses her. Her hood, mysteriously re-donned, now focuses its dark interior upon the vampire.
"Kol Demontry. You were removed from this world once. Regardless of whether I brought you back into it, I SHALL remove you from it."
"I'll support you both!" Patch's dropping into a fencing position as her rapier is given a wiggle before her. "Trust my magics. They'll help you." she says as one of the werewolves stands in the doorway, her eyes locked on the bits of wood that now litter the floor before them. A terrible stage, but it will do. A heavy breath is taken, and then the dawn elf with a birthmark begins to sing. A haunting tone, winding with high notes as she infuses the air with her magic, allowing those around her that can hear some support.
"And I know!" "That your hands are reaching out for what is to come!" "Close your eyes."
Patch's song shaky, but there.
Dolan shoulders his pack just as the door bursts open, and sword in hand, is about to leap to the door to buy time when voices reach his ears. "Tel. Lana. They found us!" Hope leaps in his suddenly strong voice, even if it rasps with weariness. "Mourner Verna! How in all the green garden hells-?! Come on! CLEAR US A PATH!" he raises his voice to bellow, reversing the blade and finally leaping for the door. "May the strength of Daeus' sword be your bane!"
GAME: Patch rolls perform/sing: (13)+12: 25 GAME: Telamon casts Fireball. Caster Level: 12 DC: 20 GAME: Telamon rolls 10d6: (36): 36 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+1: (10)+1: 11 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+22: (7)+22: 29
Hovering over the house, Telamon takes Lana's hand. "Here, boys," he says grimly, holding his other hand over his head. "Fetch. Ganzer lipisbala gaz!" A sphere of roiling flame appears in his hand, and he sends it rocketing down to detonate in front of the cabin -- instantly incinerating the three snarling wolves, though Kol dives out of the way of the blast.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+2: (17)+16+2: 35 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Black Tentacles. Caster Level: 12 DC: 21 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+17: (19)+17: 36 GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+2+2: (10)+11+2+2: 25 GAME: Dolan rolls 2d6+6+2+2+2d6: (12)+6+2+2+(5): 27
Cor'lana curses as she sees that Telamon's fireball spell doesn't affect Kol. "I'll try and slow him down," she says, weaving magic in her unoccupied hand (the other one is still held by Telamon). She casts it and the ground around Kol erupts in a mass of writhing, rubbery tentacles that try to cling to one of his limbs.
But Kol is a mighty foe indeed, just as Verna warned. The vampire escapes their grasp. Cor'lana's eyes widen. "Okay, Tel--we can't deal with that vampire. We need to get in, get our friends, and then teleport out. Can we manage that?"
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (12)+27: 39 GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d10+7: (8)+7: 15
The vampire disappears for a moment from amid the black tentacles, and reappears behind Verna. A hand swings out and catches her on the shoulder, leaving thin scratches behind. He licks his finger as he falls to the ground, seemingly unconcerned by the distance that he's fallen. "I can keep you company until that _lovely_ man returns. I want to play with him, so _interesting_." Another finger is licked and he looks up at the three rescuers, particularly Verna. "If you try to take him from me, I will follow you. I _will_ have my moment with him. I want to take that thing off his face and see what he looks like without it."
Kol's green eyes have an unnatural glow to them, and he turns toward the doorway slowly. He's never stopped smiling, but the sight of Dolan in the doorway makes his smile widen considerably.
GAME: Dirk rolls ranged+2+4: (6)+12+2+4: 24 GAME: Dirk rolls ranged+2+4-5: (8)+12+2+4+-5: 21 GAME: Dirk rolls 2d4: (5): 5 GAME: Dirk rolls Dmg+4: aliased to 1d12+1+6+4: (6)+1+6+4: 17 GAME: Dirk rolls Dmg+4: aliased to 1d12+1+6+4: (4)+1+6+4: 15
GAME: Dirk used a Silver Bullet.
GAME: Dirk used a Silver Bullet.
GAME: Dirk rolls Perception+4: (8)+13+4: 25
GAME: Verna casts Searing Light. Caster Level: 19 DC: 20
GAME: Verna rolls ranged: (6)+12: 18
GAME: {*} Verna rolls ranged: (4)+12: 16
Dirk staggers back as his front yard erupts into flame. He casts a frightened gaze out the side window towards his little paddock, where his pony Thistle lives. Looking back to the front, he swings his thunderbelcher up. His eyes narrow as he sights down the barrel, drawing his bead on Kol. "You pasty-faced fang-banger! GET OFF MY LAWN!" he roars. He pulls back on the trigger. CHK-BOOM! BOOM! The weapon kicks in his grip as he fires two shots in quick succession. The silvered bullets fly true, slamming into Kol's center mass. The vampire's expensive clothing now sports two lovely bullet holes in them. But the old ranger doesn't let up. He takes a step forward, racking his rifle as he holds it trained. Something gives him pause, though. He peers a bit more closely, then his eyes widen. "Beards o' me fathers! He's healin' up!"
The appearance behind her is somewhat surprising to Verna, and the wound startling, yet it is Kol's words that are the most shocking. Her hood immediately pans to the door as their meaning is parsed, then promptly shifts back to the vampire. "No!" A hasty call and gesture (mostly her palm pointing at Kol) follows, and a thin beam of intense light emits from her hand in Kol's direction. All proves a bit too hasty, alas, as the beam sings the ground near his feet.
The bard is already a bit spent, some magics used as she imbues his second shot to aid in it reaching Kol. It comes with an increased humming, the words of her song falling short, but the muffled tune is carried to keep her magics alive. "Yes, great. Good. He can heal. But, we STILL need to get out of here!" she calls to Dirk as she casts the window open to the storm and violence going on outside. "I'd rather not burn in here complaining about it." her tone a bit tense. Fire bad. "As long as we can hurt him more than he can heal, there isn't a problem!" yet.
GAME: Dolan rolls athletics+2: (2)+8+2: 12 GAME: Dolan rolls athletics+2: (1)+8+2: 11 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Telamon casts Greater Invisibility. Caster Level: 12 DC: 22
Telamon scowls as the werewolves are incinerated, but the cabin catches fire. "Damn it, I thought it was too wet to burn..." Watching the melee, and hearing Kol's loud declaration, he shakes his head. "Man, Andie's gonna be pissed... alright, new plan. I'll try and get them clear. Give that bloodsucking moron something to worry about." He raises Lana's hand to his lips and then says, "Irhandi, paphal kalag." The air ripples around Cor'lana, and she fades from sight, as the half-elven sorcerer descends further to inspect the damage.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Disintegrate. Caster Level: 12 DC: 23 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls ranged+2: (9)+8+2: 19 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls ranged+2: (11)+8+2: 21
The meaning behind those sing-song words sinks into Dolan's mind. _Oh no. By all the holy fires, no. He's after _me_?!_ _Well, you did throw holy water at him,_ his inner self reminds him, even as his hands stab the greatsword into a crack in the floorboards for retrieval in a moment. "I don't think so, creepy." He lunges down to the body at his feet, intent on picking up the massive furball - and it doesn't move. Panic rising, he pulls at it again, but slick with blood, his gloved fingers slip free, pulling his left shoulder into a very not-nice-looking position. "Fuck!"
He releases the body, wrenches the blade out of the crack in the floorboards, and backpedals towards Patch and Dirk.
Not that anyone can see it as Cor'lana turns invisible, but she's blushing as she fades out of sight with the little kiss to her hand. The sorceress floats down with her husband while invisible, and she murmurs a certain destructive spell's incantation.
But the thin green ray goes wide of Kol.
GAME: Dolan rolls will+2: (17)+10+2: 29
Kol manages for a moment to catch Dolan's flesh-and-blood eye, but it's only for a moment and that's not quite long enough to exert his will over the other man. His smile fades to a mere touch on his lips as he moves to make sure that if the group exits he will be able to catch his prize.
GAME: Dirk rolls ranged+4+2: (17)+12+4+2: 35 GAME: Dirk rolls ranged+4+2-5: (2)+12+4+2+-5: 15 GAME: Dirk rolls ranged+4+2-5: (19)+12+4+2+-5: 32 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg+4+2: aliased to 1d12+1+6+4+2: (5)+1+6+4+2: 18 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg+4+2: aliased to 1d12+1+6+4+2: (1)+1+6+4+2: 14 GAME: Dirk used a Silver Bullet. GAME: Dirk used a Silver Bullet.
Dirk sucks in his breath as he sees Kol focusing his charming gaze on his friend. "Dolan, don't look at 'is eyes!" he cries out. He knows exactly what that leads to. But thank all the gods, Dolan's able to avoid having his will stolen. As Kol repositions, Dirk follows him. He sweeps up his thunderbelcher, snarling as he sights down the barrel. "Have a look at -this-, ye bastard!" he growls. CHK-BOOM! BOOM! The first bullet hammers into Kol's shoulder, sending vampiric blood spraying into the rain-soaked grass. The other, however, takes his left eye, leaving a raw, ragged hole. "I CAN DO THIS ALL DAY, YE BASTARD!"
GAME: Verna casts Heal. Caster Level: 19 DC: 23 GAME: Verna casts Feeblemind. Caster Level: 19 DC: 22 GAME: Verna rolls finesse+2: (6)+12+2: 20 GAME: Verna rolls finesse+2: (6)+12+2: 20
The front door, or rather the area before it, is aflame. The others' likely means of egress becomes apparent when Kol moves to the window. That and the suddenly blast to his fact is a mild indicator of Dirk's relative proximity. "You shall NOT have him!" She was once 'enamored' by the abomination, herself, albeit briefly. Not briefly enough.
Upon mist-wings, the Mourner dives to him as a rod appears in one gloved hand. The other glows and pulses with energy as she both beseeches The Harpist and gesticulates with said hand. The same hand that makes an open grasp at Kol's head. Verna is no skilled healer, yet the amount of positive energy gathered is not 'technically' for healing. Not for Kol.
With any good fortune, it will incinerate what passes for a mind. Yet fortune is not present.
As large as Kol's inflated skull must be to contain his ego, it is not massive enough for Verna to easily make contact.
GAME: Patch rolls weapon4+2: (14)+7+2: 23
Patch is quick to discard her rapier, a bow taken from the side of her pack as she is quick to have it at the ready. A single shot is fired out the window at the vampire, her arrow doing /nothing/ to the man, its shaft bending and causing it to bounce of the vampires skin. Clothes. Something hard. "We have to keep Dolan away from him!" she calls to Dirk. "Dolan. The fire is dying!" trying to get the man to head that way towards the reinforcements. At least there seems to be a lot less of the wolves than she'd imagined. Likely vaporized by Telamon's fire, but still it's nice to not be overwhelmed when fighting for your life.
GAME: Dolan casts Align Weapon. Caster Level: 6 DC: 15 GAME: Dolan spends ONE use of BANE. GAME: Dolan spends ONE use of BANE.
"SPLIT UP!" Dolan roars, even as he cringes at the gaping hole in the vampire's face. "He can't see all of you at once! Try to take the other one out and run for it!" He smartly reverses his own blade, murmuring a prayer. "Holy Knight, let your light shine through my blade, and be this vampire's bane!" That done, he backpedals towards the door.
Telamon clenches his fist involuntarily as Kol simply refuses to die, or at least back off. "Damn, Dolan," he mutters. "How do you get into these situations?" As Kol repositions, Tel zips down on glowing silver-white wings, slipping through the doorway and into the cabin. "Sorry about the fire, Dirk. Hey, Lana, Verna, c'mere, looks like we've got a party!"
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Haste. Caster Level: 12 DC: 20 GAME: Dirk rolls Will+2+2: (9)+4+2+2: 17
Cor'lana rushes down with Telamon, although the sorceress is still quite invisible and can't really be seen well. Magic gathers in her hands as she quietly murmurs the incantation, and befuddling for her allies, their movements are quickened by unseen aid.
Kol is not as stupid as some might credit him with being. In fact, he has a certain amount of wily intelligence that shines through in this moment. He stares in through the window with his one good eye, the other healing rapidly enough to cause someone illness if they stared at him too long. He can't see through it, not yet, but the fact that such a grizzly injury can be repaired by his vampiric body is unsettling. Green eyes meet Dirk's. "Let me in." He says simply, and walks confidently toward the door.
Dirk, bespelled by the vampire has no choice, and now? Kol is inside.
GAME: Verna casts Dimensional Anchor. Caster Level: 19 DC: 21 GAME: Verna rolls ranged+2: (2)+12+2: 16 GAME: Verna rolls ranged+2: (10)+12+2: 24 GAME: Verna rolls 1d20+20+4: (1)+20+4: 25 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Verna rolls 1d20+20+4: (16)+20+4: 40
Verna's concerns only grow given the lack of effects upon Kol. She will NOT allow Dolan to be taken. Her worries are solidified when Dirk appears enthralled. It pains her, having been in that unfortunate position, and thoughts of offense finally and firmly switch to defense. He claimed he would follow if he was denied. She takes his claim as truth.
"Telamon, Cor'lana, get them out of here! I will delay him!" From rote memory in dealing with fiends, she gestures and her hand glows emerald before it lashes out at and into Kol.
GAME: Patch rolls weapon0+2: (20)+6+2: 28 (THREAT) GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+2+1: (8)+11+2+1: 22 GAME: Dolan rolls 2d6+6+2+2+2d6: (7)+6+2+2+(5): 22 GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+1+2+2: (1)+11+1+2+2: 17 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+1+2+2: (16)+11+1+2+2: 32 GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+1+2+2: (9)+11+1+2+2: 25
Patch doesn't know what to do. Dirk is in real danger, and that has her heart hammering. She can keep it cool when it's not someone she knows, but for Dirk? No, Kol has made her mad! Very mad. She storms at the vampire as he enters the door, cutting across Dirk's cabin as she snatches the bundle of garlic from above the broken door. It's her weapon, and she's scowling at Kol and his cheekiness as the strike suddenly strikes him outside his face, garlic cloves exploding in his face and overwhelming his senses and sending him stumbling towards Dolan. "You can't have him! He's not even properly seasoned!" she lets loose, her strike of desperation having done something. That's enough to leave the bard wide-eyed as she scrambles back towards Dirk, a laugh belted through nervous lips. "That worked?!"
GAME: Dolan rolls 2d6+6+2+2+2d6: (11)+6+2+2+(5): 26 GAME: Dolan rolls 2d6+6+2+2+2d6: (6)+6+2+2+(8): 24
Without warning, vampire in face. And, Dolan is - sort of ready, sort of not? He _swears_ as he brings the blade into position, the first strike barely scraping him. One, his left shoulder he'd wrenched simply gives way, sending stabbing agony that nearly leaves his fingers nerveless. The last two hit, more by training than by anything he did consciously. "I'M SORRY! GET US OUT OF HERE TEL!"
The invisible sorceress sees what's happening. "Patch, it's me, hold on tight," Cor'lana says as she goes to grab both her husband and her sister to complete the daisy-chain that is needed for teleporting. "Tel is getting us out of here!"
GAME: Telamon rolls sorcerer+charisma: (19)+12+10: 41 GAME: Telamon casts Teleport. Caster Level: 12 DC: 22 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (42): 42
Telamon grabs Dirk by the collar of his tunic. "Sorry, Dirk, this just keeps happening." A tap on Dolan's arm, as he leans back to use the bulky dwarf and the one-eyed inquisitor as cover against Kol's wrath. "Kaskal nu siten ula'ulla!" he shouts triumphantly, finishing the spell.
There's a flash of soft, gossamer light, and a sphere of energy surrounds the five heroes in the cabin. Folding around them inexorably, and suddenly shrinking with startling speed... leaving nothing behind but an empty cabin and a few sparkles of stray mana which flicker out.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+27: (4)+27: 31 GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d10+7: (17)+7: 24
Kol looks around, confusion twisting the smile on his features, but the expression doesn't fade. Instead he searches for someone, anyone left remaining. Ah. There's one! He moves toward Verna with blinding speed and punches her square in the face. The blow causes her bleed further and he leans toward her. "Which one of you did it? Made it so that I can not follow? Which of you denies me my time with the golden-eyed one?"
It has been some time since Verna was punched in the face. As well, that was more friendly aid to regain senses rather than enraged vampiric retaliation. She promptly alights, moving vertically away from Kol via sweeps of her phantom-like wings. Despite the rather bloodied nose, she offers him a smile. "I did. I told you that you would not have him." The longer his attention is on her, the more lead time the others have. As well, it is time spent NOT hunting others. Admittedly, she may also presume that he can no longer follow her.
The five heroes are falling down a multicolored tunnel of light. It's quite pretty, if weird to look at -- like being trapped inside a prism. Then, abruptly, there's a soft 'pop' and...
The party stands on a small grassy lawn in front of a large, sprawling house. Other houses and trees stretch in all directions, the architectural design distinctly elven. Indeed, after a moment it might come back to everyone: this is Ylvaliel, in the Mythwood. You were all here for Tel and Lana's wedding, after all.
A lovely redheaded woman in a heavy fur coat over a wool dress is sweeping snow off the porch of the house, and at the pop she looks up. Her eyes widen, then narrow, and she sighs, resting her hands on her hips. "Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon," she says quite sternly. "If you're going to bring friends over, you know you're supposed to let me know first."
Telamon actually blushes a touch, and says, "Yes, mother. Sorry about this."
There's a perceptive glint in her eyes, though, as she surveys the party, before sighing. "I'll summon the priests. Looks like you've gotten into something again."
GAME: Telamon casts Teleport. Caster Level: 12 DC: 22 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+12: (14)+12: 26
Dirk squawks and flails as he's drug through that tunnel. When they land in the Mythwood, the old dwarf is hopping mad. "Let me go! LET ME GO! MASTER KOL! MASTER, WHERE ARE YE?!" he roars. The poor old snowbeard is not at all in his right mind.
Cor'lana looks mildly nauseated--and then she recalls her senses. That's her mother-in-law on the porch! She swallows hard, and then plants a wide grin on her face, waving to the redhead woman. "Mother! Hi! Sorry, we have a /really/ good reason for showing up unannounced--!"
She stares at Dirk for a moment before she looks at Telamon. "Don't you have something for that?" she asks. "Or, should I try dispelling the magic on him if it doesn't work?"
Once they are safe, Dolan's bloodied sword clatters immediately to the pavement. "Sorry, ma'am. I know we're being rude." But then, Dirk pipes up, and and he dives for the dwarf. "What did he do to you, the little shit?" Telamon's mother is lost in the shuffle. He'll apologize most respectfully later, but for now - first things first. In lieu of anything else, he sits down on Dirk's legs, effectively pinning his knees down.
Patch just stares at the scene, the sensation of travel magics always leaving her a bit disoriented. It takes a moment for her to realize they have arrived, and things had changed, Cor'lana and her warning enough for her to tense and brace. "Did that really happen?" she has to asks of herself, Dirk's hollering for Kol reminding her that while they are safe, some effects are still lingering. "It really happened. Holly hells. And, it's over!" a little bit of a celebration creeping into her tone as she treads snow in her antics. "For today." she clarifies, laughing again.
"Sister of steel and magics. I couldn't of asked for a better rescue." finally letting her glance rest on Cor'lana, and then to Telamon. Patch had mostly ignored his familial drama, listening, but not commenting. Afterall, they were guests. "Thank you. Both of you." she assures the married duo once again.
As for Dirk? Patch sighs. "Is he going to be okay?" concern creeping into her tone. "Can it be so easily dispelled?"
"Not -again-," Telamon groans. "First it was that damned shadow-demon thing, now this..." He touches the lapel of his robe, then his haversack, before briskly walking forward. "Sorry, Dirk. I know this is rude, but--" He grabs Dirk by the beard with one hand, and smacks the heel of his hand into Dirk's brow with the other. There's a sense of something breaking and unraveling, as Tel lets go.
The red-headed woman -- Ariana Atlon -- leans on one of the lintel posts, her eyebrows rising. "Looks to me like you've been in a scuffle," she says. Her gaze measures Dolan, and she smiles suddenly. "Well well, Dolan. Haven't seen you since the wedding. Siofra, Lana... that's Dirk..." Her eyes move back to Tel. "Alright, would you like to explain what you've gotten into? Preferably inside, over tea?"
-End