“We’re coming up to the borders of Silverwood, lass. But I don’t think they’re at all pleased to be seeing us.”
I looked up from the remains of my meal with a grin. One would think that a ship crewed by the dead would not have much in the way of rations. However, the necromancer had still been amongst the living, and she liked to eat well. She had been a noble in a land run by mages, after all.
That love of good food was likely the reason that a ship of the dead had a table which had been enchanted to provide a feast for twelve, for each of the three meals of the day. Better still, it was not just normal food, but the food made by the Heroes’ Feast spell! If you spent an hour eating the delicious food, you not only satisfied your hunger, but it wiped away disease, sickness, nausea, and made you immune to poison and fear for a time!
“Very well, Captain, we’ll be up in a moment.”
I looked to the others seated at the table with me. Though there was room for twelve, only five of us were eating. My companions, minus Ebonheart, who was relaxing in the hold, and Findelye looked back at me. The Princess’s vows apparently meant that she could partake of a feast others created through magic, so long as she wasn’t the one using the items. She did not need to eat anymore, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t pleasure in the act.
The two of us had actually struck up a bit of a rapport over the two days we’d been flying. She kept to the hold, for the most part, away from the undead, so she would have less chance of breaking her vows, even unintentionally, but had been joining us for these meals. She’d also consented to train with me, a little, in an open space in the hold. After all, we were both battledancers, though she pursued that path exclusively, while I took a more specialized path. It was enlightening to see the differences in our styles.
Now, the elven princess’s face was a studied mask, trying not to show her concern. She didn’t want us fighting her people, but she knew there wouldn’t be any choice, if we were to depose her sister. I nodded softly to her, letting her know that I understood, before looking to the rest of our group.
“Well, we all assumed that, even if we went in with the ship looking completely harmless, there was no way that the elves weren’t going to notice an airship coming to their landlocked woods. And if anyone has scrying or divination abilities in their employ, then they could know who we are bringing with us. So, we expected this.”
I looked back to the Princess. “Given the situation, the only way to get anyone to listen to us is to beat some sense into them. I won’t ask you to join in the fight, since they’re your people and all. But understand that my concern is for the safety of me and mine, first and foremost. If possible, I’ll try not to slaughter them all, but if that isn’t possible, I’ll at least make it quick, and as painless as I can manage.”
Findelye nodded sadly. “That is the best I can ask of you, when you are already doing so much.”
I nodded, and walked out onto the deck. The crew were scurrying about, and I could see that the ballistae were loaded and ready. Captain Dawson spied us on deck, and called out, “Lassie, we have ourselves a welcoming party! Eight of them, flying hard towards us. All of them have wings.”
I took a breath, and said, “All stop, Captain. We’ll fly out to see what they want, and handle them, away from the ship, if they’re needing to be handled. Very least, we’ll see if they can get us permission to fly to the capitol.”
“Aye, lassie. YOU ‘EARD HER BOYS! FURL THE SAILS, AND DROP THE ANCHOR! WE’RE STAYING PUT UNTIL THE FLIERS CAN SORT THESE PRATS OUT!”
As the crew busily got about bringing the ship to a halt, I looked at the others, and took wing, flying towards the eight individuals coming our way. The others followed me. Our formation, such as it was, was kept loose, so that the chances of catching us all in a single spell were reduced. It also gave us room to maneuver, which would probably come in handy later.
Siora’s Mirror Image Roll: 1d4+6 = 8 images
As if on a signal, the light of spells being cast could be seen ahead. I couldn’t tell what spells they were, at this range, but the blades in the warriors’ hands all glowed with a brilliant white light, so, clearly, something had been done. Vestele offered up a prayer of her own, and I felt her magic settle over me like a warm caress. Meanwhile, eight copies of Siora sprang up all around her.
Peace, it seemed, was never an option.
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Initiatives
Silverwood Elite Guards
Melinda
Siora
Fartooth
Vestele
The enemies flew closer, and I could see that each of them was wearing a breastplate that, amazingly, appeared to be made out of some kind of bronze-colored wood! Emblazoned on the chest was a symbol that I took to represent Silverwood. Upon their shields, however, was the crescent moon of Corellon Larethian, high god of the Elven Pantheon. Their white wings were mirrors of my own black ones, giving them the look of avenging angels.
Though they flew quickly, and in a disciplined way, they did not act recklessly, or without caution, presenting their shields in front of them as they flew, clearly looking to their own defenses before attacking. Clearly, these guards were well trained. That disciplined hesitation would probably only last until they got a read on our abilities, but that was fine. It gave us a chance to get closer, which is all we needed.
Melinda’s attack roll (G1): 1d20+28 = 35 (touch) (Hit)
Vitriolic Chain: 10d6 = 41 (Acid)
Melinda’s attack roll (G2): 1d20+28 = 36 (touch) (Hit)
Vitriolic Chain: 20 (Acid)
Melinda’s attack roll (G3): 1d20+28 = 32 (touch) (Hit)
Vitriolic Chain: 20 (Acid)
Melinda’s attack roll (G4): 1d20+28 = 33 (touch) (Hit)
Vitriolic Chain: 20 (Acid)
Melinda’s attack roll (G5): 1d20+28 = 44 (touch) (Hit)
Vitriolic Chain: 20 (Acid)
I darted forward, using my full speed for the first time in ages. Soul’s Violation appeared in my hand, the black blade glowing hungrily in the air. In my other hand, however, appeared a bolt of acidic power, which I threw at the closest of the guards. The bolt hit, despite his defensive stance, and then bounced to four of his friends. All five cried out in pain as the acid burned their flesh.
Siora bit back a curse, but followed in my wake, though much slower than I had. Her batlike demon wings carried her forward, all the same, and her images fluttered around her, making it impossible to tell which one was the real one. Not unless you had magic of some sort to aid you, that is.
Fartooth’s Manyshot (G1): 1d20+20 = 36 (Hit)
4 Arrows Damage: 4d6+40 = 55 (Piercing) (DR 10/Cold Iron)
Wounding: 4 (CON Damage)
Fartooth flew not closer to the action, but to the side, clearing lines of fire for himself. His efforts were poorly received by the target I’d first hit, as four arrows of psychic might pounded into his chest. We had barely even started, and already the man was looking quite the worse for wear.
Vestele flew up behind her sister, weapons at the ready. Loudly, she called out, “They are followers of that arrogant prick, Corellon. They aren’t going to surrender to us, and they sure won’t allow us to just peacefully fly into Silverwood.”
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G1’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+23 = 39 (Miss)
G1’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+18 = 20 (Miss)
G1’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+13 = 29 (Miss)
G2’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+23 = 43 (Crit Threat)
Confirm Crit: 1d20+23 = 29 (Regular hit)
Damage: 1d8+8 = 12
Iron Vulnerability: 1d6 = 2 (DR 15/Cold Iron)
G3’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+23 = 27 (Miss)
G4’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+23 = 24 (Miss)
G5’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+23 = 33 (Miss)
G6’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+23 = 38 (Miss)
G7’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+23 = 29 (Miss)
G8’s attack (Melinda): 1d20+23 = 24 (Miss)
The guard that had received special attention from Fartooth and I coughed up blood from the severity of his wounds, but the elf would not yield. Hovering in place, the elf lashed out with his glowing blade. However, I danced gracefully in the air, easily avoiding their blows.
This incensed the man’s fellows, who cried out curses in the elven tongue. Apparently, they decided that I was mocking them, and their god. So, they surrounded me, and attempted to strike me down. In their rage, two were so quick to try and hit me that their blades met in midair, disarming them both.
Only one of their blades so much as touched me, and it was unable to draw blood when pitted against my enchanted flesh. The guard that hit me cursed, and said, “The witch is resistant to ordinary steel! She’s no lycan or construct, which means she’s likely a fey or demon of some kind! See if cold iron works better!”
Lingering Damage (G1): 2d6 = 7 (Acid)
Lingering Damage (G2): 2d6 = 9 (Acid)
Lingering Damage (G3): 2d6 = 6 (Acid)
Lingering Damage (G4): 2d6 = 9 (Acid)
Lingering Damage (G5): 2d6 = 4 (Acid)
Melinda’s Concentration Check: 1d20+35 = 45 (Success)
Melinda’s attack roll (G1): 1d20+28 = 41 (touch) (Hit)
Vitriolic Chain: 10d6 = 41 (Acid) (Dead)
Melinda’s attack roll (G2): 1d20+28 = 31 (touch) (Hit)
Vitriolic Chain: 20 (Acid)
Melinda’s attack roll (G3): 1d20+28 = 46 (touch) (Hit)
Vitriolic Chain: 20 (Acid)
Melinda’s attack roll (G4): 1d20+28 = 44 (touch) (Hit)
Vitriolic Chain: 20 (Acid)
Melinda’s attack roll (G5): 1d20+28 = 48 (touch) (Crit Threat)
Confirm Crit: 1d20+28 = 33 (Crit)
Vitriolic Chain: 41 (Acid)
I could not hover, like they could, since I’d never bothered to learn that trick. However, it was only fools who trusted only in their wings when flying. My cloak was enchanted to slow my fall, so that I only dropped about five feet, instead of seeing how quickly I could meet the ground.
I smirked up at them, and said, boldly, “Cold Iron will not avail you, unworthy pawns! You may surrender, and we shall spare your worthless lives, or continue to fight, and die!” As I said this, I unleashed another burning chain of acid. The target Fartooth and I had tag-teamed fell from the sky. I didn’t know if he had some means of healing himself, but clearly his anger and zeal shrouded his judgement. I wondered how many of his friends would follow in his mistakes?
G7’s Will Save (Dominate Person): 1d20+13 = 22 (Fail)
Seeing a chance, with the paladins, or whatever they were, still in the chilling aura I gave off, Siora launched a spell at the closest of the enemies. Apparently, she did not want to risk a charm, not when so many people were this close together. Instead, the blank look on her victim’s face said it all. He was completely dominated by her. In a loud voice, Siora ordered her pawn into action. “Kill them!”
Fartooth’s Manyshot (G3): 1d20+20 = 40 (Crit Threat)
Confirm Crit: 1d20+20=34 (Crit)
4 Arrows (1 crit) Damage: 6d6+60 = 80 (Piercing) (DR 10/Cold Iron)
Wounding: 4 (CON Damage)
Fartooth said nothing. He simply circled the scene from a distance, and unleashed another volley of arrows. Once again, all four struck home, this time in the back of one of the already wounded guards. Judging by the way the guard coughed up blood, the kobold must have hit something important.
G6’s Will Save (Dominate Person): 1d20+13 = 14 (Fail)
Vestele flew up, and grinned at her sister. “Good idea, Siora. I think I’ll play, too.” She unleashed a spell, identical to her sister’s, and another of the guards went blank-faced. “Kill for me, my pet!”