House Boromar

The cloaked figure revealed his face, and Devlin saw a bald headed human. He would have been considered handsome if not for the plague crustings on his eyes and mouth. He looks up at the Lyrandar captain floating above him. "Well done, Lyrandar. I hope you're the help we've been waiting for."

Devlin watched the man suspiciously, wondering if it was a trick to lower his defenses. "Are these your men?" He asked pointing to the unconscious figures lying on the ground.

"As mush I seem to look like them, I’m afraid I am not. You must forgive these thugs," the man replied. "An addicted man would often lose his sense of morality, just to satisfy his needs."

The Lyrandar captain nodded, muttered a short incantation, and started to descend. He turned to his comrades and saw Rothaide tyring to calm their horses.

"We'll do what we can to help you," Devlin said to the sick man. He turned to Rothaide and said something in elvish. The priestess nodded and began to unpack her medical kit. "Rothaide will do her best to alleviate your sickness. But we are on an urgent mission."

"I know. You are looking for a young halfling woman, named Mika Boromar. I have been waiting for you and would lead you to her."

“I am known as Tsukahsti.” The man introduced himself. “You may call me Chuck.”

Shortly after it was apparent that the excitement was over, and seeing the less hostile approach of the mysterious bald human. The mist dissipated into nothingness. She glared momentarily at him but felt nothing but good intentions.

Rothaide collected herself and moved behind the captain.

She made a quick survey of the grounds. She sees the bodies of the fallen. The summoned worm creature was still as if awaiting orders from its master which was nowhere to be seen. Unsure if they are dead, but sure of her own remorse, she wanted to go and attend to each one. For elves who are long lived, life holds a high regard even for their enemies. And killing a last resort.

"Captain. If I may .. " She whispered solemnly, barely audible, in elven. The ancient language which normally flowed and uplifted the spirits like music, sounded odd grim coming from Rothaide. Devlin immediately understood and nodded slightly with perhaps equal resolve. He is after all half elf. Through her strict adherance to her creed, the elven priestess, though the newest crew member of Devlin's crew, was predictable that way. " .. attend to their last rites".

Hoping that some may still yet be alive, she moved towards the nearest fallen. She passes by the bald human who eyed her with interest. Rothaide nods, but didn't speak a word, in acknowledgment.

Reaching the fallen, she finds out that though most were seriously injured and/or unconscious, none of them were dead. To these, she performed rudimentary first aid. The little she knew of it anyway.

But instead of the faces of the attackers, she saw the faces of the fallen crew members of the Eglantine. Their dead eyes were open and blank, staring coldly into space. Their bodies and limbs contorted as if in eternal pain. Rothaide spoke to them anyway. Begging them silently to leave her be.

I am innocent. She declared to them. She told herself. But even she herself did not sound convinced.

She cried openly while she performed her ministrations. Her eyes glimmered. Filled with tears of remorse and grief, it ran down her cheeks. The others eyed her in utter disbelief. She is crazed, they all thought. She stops short immediately after, realizing Rourke was missing.

Hovering above the mist, Devlin could see faint shadows moving around. The thugs were struggling to find their way through Rothaide's spell. One of them was shouting orders, trying to organize his men and fight their way out of the mist. He also heard the horses crying out in terror.

"I should have asked Angela for more back up," the Lyrandar captain mumbled. These thugs were delaying their rescue mission. "There's only one way to end this."

Devlin opened his belt pouch and brought out some tallow, brimstone, and powdered iron. He quickly mixed the three elements in his palm, rubbing them fiercely while chanting some obscure arcane mantra.

The half-elf's hands began to crackle with blue electric light. The energy from the elements, augmented by Devlin's enchantment, continued to grow and form into a swirling ball of blue energy.

Devlin released his hand, shouted a trigger word, and raised his hands. A huge sphere of electricity was formed, crackling with power and fury. The Lyrandar Captain muttered another word and the sphere begins to descend into the mist and starts to burn away the concealing mists.

From the cleared area, Devlin finds the unconscious forms of both Urfo and one of his thug companions. The cloaked figure and the remaining thug are likewise there, momentarily frozen in surprise by the sudden appearance of the electric sphere. The Lyrandar captain then wills the ball towards the remaining thug who doesn't manage to avoid it. The sphere hits the remaining thug solidly on its chest which causes him to fall to the ground unconscious together with his other companions.

Seeing the thug fall, the remaining figure visibly relaxes yet still maintains his defensive stance. He removes his cloak from his head revealing a bald headed human with plague crustings on his eyes and mouth and looks up at the half-elf floating above him.

"Well done, Lyrandar." The man calls out; his voice coarse and weak. "I hope you're the help we've been waiting for."

rothaide was able to make it safely outside the mist. she clutched at her frock and her other stuff she brought with her - her spells components. boldrei's symbol dangled on a chain between her delicate fingers. the misty perimeter is not so wide, and yet she found her self catching for her breath. she was obviously not used to all the excitement. she is used to officiating ceremonies like weddings, baptisms, and the occassional last rites. but nothing like this. she should have guessed at the onset, being raided by gnolls, that it would just be the beginning.

she was not prepared for the plague. and she sure is not prepared for this. she stood and worried for her friends. unsure of what she can do as everything went silent inside. she also worried for the attackers. life is precious and death is final (as it exists in nature). she continues to be appalled that people take it so lightly. or so it seems. left with nothing, she tried to call out their names.

"mister rourke?"

"captain? are you there?!"

there is bound to be someone hurt. she tries to remember her training to give her any clues at to what the spidery marking were but her minimal knowledge in healing doesn't provide her with any clues.

* * *

rothaide's hand was raised to cover her light brown elven eyes, she was forced to squint. the afternoon sun was darting occassionally thru the mist at its edges. the center however was entirely obscured. rothaide waited in anticipation for anyone or anything that might make its way out of the mist. friend or foe. she backs up another step.

then as she was about to go in and help her crewmates, she felt something odd about her surroundings. a change beginning at the hairs at the back of her neck to the hairs (the tiny little stubs that she had being an elf) on her arms. they were standing on end. she could have imagine it. but she could have heard some form of chanting prior. and then just as suddenly, a luminous ball of lightning erupted from above her.

"great mother!" she gasped. intinctively she grabs hold of her symbol and pressed it against her chest.

and then looking beyond the ball, she felt instant relief as she sees the familiar visage of captain delvin floating ..

The mist concealed almost everything. The afternoon sunlight gaved it a shimmering effect which on better days would have been suffice for mundane amusement. It swirled about as it catches movement. It did not hide however the sounds the crew and the inflicted made as they find their bearings inside.

Caught by surprise at the appearance of the worm creature, Rothaide was completely appalled at what was happening. This is insanity. She cried out to herself. We did not come here to execute the sick. Her faith and creed resolute. But it worried her more at how the muscular man who attacked her appeared. What were those vile spider web marks on the man's veins. It was something she had not witnessed from the crew of the Eglantine.

She turns about instinctively straining to see past the cover of the mist even though fully aware that the divine magic obscured all sight. She picks up her frock and prepares to make a run for safety.

Rothaide made her way thru the obscuring mists. It was easy for her to do determine which way to move to so since she was the one who cast the spell. But knowing where to move and eventually get there were two different things. She carefully made her way thru the fog and managed to avoid the horses behind her.

A feral scream makes her look back thru the mist though as one of the thugs runs out of the mists and towards her with his club raised high in attack. Suddenly, an arm snakes out of the mists and pulls the man back into it. A second later, another scream erupts from one of the thugs, but this one was one of pain, thru the breaks in the mists the man can be seen clutching his head.

Still, another few seconds later a cloaked figure could be seen running up the ashworm’s body and towards the grappled thug. The new arrival manages to avoid the construct’s tail attack and get close to the rampaging thug.

“Enough of this foolishness, Urfo.”

Something suddenly flashes from the new arrival’s right hand and thrusts it into the raging thug’s head. A piercing scream erupts from the grappled man before he slumps unconscious on the ashworm’s grip.

The cloaked figure then jumped back to the ground and once more gets shrouded by the concealing mists.

* * *

In his sandform, Rourke managed to track the movement of everyone in the area. He sensed the half-elf suddenly leave the ground and move up into the air. He felt the footsteps of Rothaide as she ran away from their attackers. He knew where each of their attackers were and sensed as one of the thugs following after the elven cleric. Before he could do anything, he sensed the sudden presence of another person. Sudden, as if he wasn’t there one moment, and there the next. The trail of the pursuing thug passed by the newcomer and a second later Rourke could feel the body of the thug down on the ground. The warmage follow the movement of the newcomer as he rushed to and fro the battlefield and sensed the body of the thugs fall wherever he reached them.

* * *

From where Devlin was levitating he could see the whole battlefield though somewhat obscured by the mists, the occasional draft of the wind allowed him a good vantage point of the area. He saw Rothaide exit the mists on the southeast side of the mists. He was about to call on the elven cleric when he caught something on the other end of the mists. A cloaked figure jumped on the ashworm. From the higher point of view, Devlin could see the features of the new arrival – he appeared human, likewise showing signs of those afflicted by the plague but lacking the black veins, which were. That was all the half-elf captain managed to see before the obscuring mists once again swallowed the man.

"Damn bandits," Devlin muttered as he struggled to get up. Somehow he had a feeling that this was an ambush, but he totally ignored his instincts. Now he and his crew were pushed out of their mounts and surrounded. Despite the thug's threats, the Lyrandar Captain maintained a calm facade, he had been through worse combat situations and fought more disgusting enemies during the Last War.

He was surveying his opponents when Rothaide spoke out. "Please. Mother Boldrei's love know no bound," the elf priestess pleaded as she held up the holy symbol the goddess. "We come for you, my child..."

Suddenly, strands of mists appeared out of nowhere, covering the priestess. The wispy strands of smoke stretched out thicker and longer, obscuring the whole area.

The bandits howled and cursed as the smoke enveloped them. Devlin stared at the one who greeted them, smiled as he stepped into the white mist.

"Rothaide must be trying to protect us," the half-elf muttered. "The bandits might not see us, but we're no good inside here as well."

Devlin wasn't sure if the priestess would be able to handle herself in combat. But he confident that Rourke would manage.

"Let's take a better view of this situation," Devlin thought to himself. He took out a piece of golden wire and began to mutter a familiar incantation. As he intoned the arcane syllables, he gently bent the wire into a cup shape with a long shank at one end.

Slowly, the Lyrandar captain began float upwards. He could hear the bandits shouting at each other, trying desperately to coordinate their attack from inside the mist. No one seemed to notice that he was gone.

As soon as Devlin completed his spell, he found himself standing in mid-air several feet above the mist. Looking down, he can see the elf priestess's cloud covering most of the land.

Rourke was annoyed at having been taken by surprise again by the new attackers.

He was likewise irked by Devlin's attempt to parley with people who were clearly being controlled by some other force.

"What is that half-elf playing at..." for a moment he thought that the staff Devlin held might have some eldritch power to sway their attackers - but whatever power it had - had failed.

He tried to quickly survey the situation when he heard Rothaide attempt to beseech the thugs with calls to reason.

"Eh? Rothaide as well?"

"Of all the addle - brained..."

Before he could finish his thought, he heard the cleric mutter a prayer as he was engulfed in a thick mist.

"Ah. Now this might be useful." Rourke thought as his form dissolved into sand and flowed away from the melee unnoticed by his attackers due to the concealing mist.

Rourke's sand form often fascinated him. It was like floating in a dark pool of warm water. Normally the dark wet void would cause the warmage to panic, but this form expanded his senses. Though now blind, he became completely aware of every creature around him in a wider radius - the better to survey the battlefield and strike.

********************
Meanwhile the giant Ashworm he conjured continued to attack, oblivious to the mists for it needed no eyes to see anyway. The large construct manages to grab the raging man and entangle him within its coils. The man however manages to struggle with inhuman strength preventing the summoned creature from squeezing him.

Devlin watched as the afflicted thug made an attack at one of his shipmates. Somehow the man sensed that Rothaide had the spice medicine to cure the plague. The veins on his sweating neck and hands were black, as if it were clogged with inky dark blood.

As the man drew his baton, Rourke instinctively traced a magical sigil, attempting to protect the elf matron from the thug's onslaught. A small dust storm began to form and swirl around the afflicted man, forming into a large desert python.

The Lyrandar captain watched as Rourke wove another sigil, closing the summoning spell and ordering the sand serpent to protect Rothaide. Despite the man's illness, he was able to evade the python's attack.

"Enough!" Devlin drew out the Staff of Gorlband and pointed its barbed tip at the man. The magical elven staff began to glow in an eerie sapphire light. "Cease this attack or face an even quicker death."

"Don’t be funny." The man snarled as he swayed his baton, keeping the desert python at bay. "I don't care if you kill me."

"The Lyrandar fleet has the spice," Devlin replied. "You can still make it to the outpost and get the cure from them."

The thug laughs upon hearing the Lyrandar Captain's offer. “I don’t need your medicinal spice half-elf! I know it’s on you. If you’re not going to give it, then I guess we just have to take it.”

The thug lets out a cry and the veins around his face start to pulse making them appear thicker and darker. More of the veins appear on the exposed skin of his arms and neck. He takes on a crazed look and attacks the dustform serpent with wild swings. As if powered by unnatural strength, his blows taking chunks out of the summoned construct.

At the same time, three figures jump from the rooftops of the buildings around them and bull rushes the riders off of their horses.

==========================

Rothaide's mind was racing. She stares in shock at what seemed the living dead. Like zombies craving for living flesh, they surrounded hastily the crew of ravenstorm. It brought back the horrors she witnessed at the Englantine. She understood their desperation. She tries to pacify them. Holding up both her hands, the symbol of the mother goddess dangling openly. It twinkled brightly as it catches the afternoon sun.

"Please ... my children!" She begged for calm. Her voice filled with complete understanding towards these poor folks who have had to deal with the plague first hand. Who have had to deal with death and the suffering. "I implore all of you .."

"Calm yourselves. The mother goddess and salvation is upon us. We have brought the cure. We have come for all of you." Her voice steady and clear. She glares affectionately at each one. Hoping that reason would get thru them.

You brought this upon us didnt you. DIDNT YOuu!! the captain of the Eglantine amidst the others of its crew surrounded Rothaide. Their cold voices reverberated in her mind.

"It is being redistributed as we speak .. " she holds out a hand to the nearest living dead. A sincere invitation for a peaceful resolution. "Please. Mother Boldrei's love know no bound. We come for you, my child .. ".

One of them responds but it was attacking. Realizing her naiveté. She falls back [ooc: Tumble?]. She didn't want to partake in adding more injury to these plague victims. It was the plague. It has taken over their minds and spirit where the Mother Goddess is not able to reach them. They do not know what their doing.

She studies her position. And memorized her path out of the melee. To prevent unnecessarily causing harm to/from the crew and the inflicted both, Rothaide fell back far enough to safely pray to the Mother. It was a simple prayer that renders the people in a small vicinity practically blind. Jets of mists appeared out of nowhere centered on the priestess. obscuring the whole area. [ooc: Cast obscuring mists)

Rourke utters curse that quickly turns into the start of a spell as he recovers from the initial surprise of the attack.

As he intones the mystic words, Rourke's fingers slip from their reigns and move in a blur, tracing a glowing sigil that quickly fades in the air.

Dust and sand swirl in a cloud around Rothaide's attacker and quickly coalesce into a large serpentine mass covered in spiny armor plates.

The thug jumps aside and defensively swings his baton around allowing him to avoid being caught by the dustform ashworm that starts to form around him.