THREE HUNDRED SIXTY
(I/C)
Yanking the bolt free from his chest and then scowling at the offending quarrel, Kovid tossed it aside and cursed, “Thor’s thunder cracked anus, I hate crossbows! Let’s get to it.”
Guiding him to the pedestal where Lannis and Wyn had already run to, Lyra asked, “You alright Kovid? Let’s just get through this room and we’ll take a look at that.”
“Lady Lyra, if you are offering a more powerful way to heal my wounds,” he asked with a grimace, “it would be very much appreciated!”
Meanwhile, hanging back at the door and looking at it worryingly as the massed horde on the other side tried to smash it down, Brendon asked, “Should I use some spikes on the door to slow them down? I got a feeling that eventually they’ll break through.”
Pulling out the copy of the Dawnlands ritual, Wyn was scanning it from top to bottom while Lannis removed the Ispan’s Crystal from the Ishtari crate and was placing it as close as he could to the center of the pedestal. Looking back at the Scout, the elf shook his head and said, “Spiking de door may just mess us up later... I tink doze doors will hold. Dey have in de past.”
“I don’t know, Senor,” Abraxas frowned, “They are hitting the door like a martillo.”
With the sound of the portal reverberating, Wyn let out a warbling breath and turned back to the ritual. “Dey have had a key before. But I still tink we save de spikes. Du Lac,” he called to Brendon who turned back around. “Take de throne room key en open de secret door so we be ready to escape right away?”
“I’m on it.” The Scout ran across the chamber, the Throne room key still held in his grasp and slid to a stop at the concealed secret door, feeling about for the keyhole before inserting in and giving it a twist. He shoved hard and the passage opened up, revealing the hall as we had left it. “Done!” He called back, running up the dais and sitting in the throne. He pulled out his bow, nocked and arrow, pointed it at the door, and raised his foot over the stud to attract the elven spectral guardians. “They come in, I’ll fire it off.” He glanced down at the group and asked, “Ok captain; we’re at red alert, wanna raise the shields?”
“Good on ya.” Wyn looked around, making sure everyone was situated around the Crystal and pedestal. “H'okay mes amis. Everyone in place? We be doin' dis just like last time.”
“Walk in the park,” Lannis smiled as the hobgoblins continued to beat at the door, their blasting of whistles and cries and roars a constant din in the back ground. He clapped his hands and smiled, Ishtari held high, “Alright boys, second verse, same as the first. Let's git this done so whatever nipple pinching army is on its way can't purple our nurples."
Getting a nod from Lyra and Kovid, both with their respective weapons ready, Wyn said, “After dis ees done en we sure it work, we exit toute de suite out de secret door to de vault... it will be nice to drop off some of dis gear, oui?”
Abraxas gave a feral grin, Morrigaan Scythe held aloft. "Let's get este show en el road, eh?"
“What he said,” Lannis agreed.
“Ok. No embellishments. No screwing around. Say your lines, and touch de goddess weapon to de crystal when it’s your turn.” He cleared his throat and placed his hand on the dormant crystal and began to read. “The Sun rises in the Dawnlands.”
Everyone joined Wyn in reading the second line, their voices adding counterpoint and harmony with one another. “It is our charge to keep the Darkness at bay.”
Abraxas brought his Morrigaan Scythe forward and touched the bladed tip to the Crystal, his voice adding, “By the Bounty of the Princess of Grain do we feed the hungry warriors.” A faint tickle of light seemed to appear in the heart of the Crystal. And a bit of static electricity seemed to come off Abraxas’ weapon as well as Wyn’s forearm on the hand still touching the stone.
Kovid brought the Theystran Warhammer closer and tapped its surface to the Crystal, his baritone sounding out, “By the Brilliance of the Moon Goddess do we illuminate the shrouding dark.” The tiny speck of light grew to a spark and seemed to pulse briefly. The same hint of electricity danced down Kovid’s weapon as well, neither the fighter nor dwarf seemed able to remove their weapons from contact with the Crystal.
From his perch on the throne, Brendon was anxious as he watched the ritual taking place, his eyes constantly drawn back and forth from the door the forces on the other side were trying to break down (>Black 16, <Green 10, <Black 3). He heard a faint crack and a small section near the center hinge on the left door spewed out a small amount of wood dust (1d6 Structural damage, Red/Black 4). “Hurry guys,” he murmured.
Lyra followed, her Lolthian Flail made contact with the Crystal and she recited, “By the Children of the Queen of Monsters do we fight the devouring hordes.” The spark had swelled now to a bluish white small sphere, and the surface of the Crystal seemed to become less opaque as the ritual proceeded. Stray tendrils of electric power now nakedly danced up and down the weapons as well the elf’s arm up to his bicep.
Lannis was last, the Ishtari Rod touched the Ispan’s Crystal and the resulting power infusion triply enhanced and enlarged the roiling light within until it seemed to fill half the now mostly translucent stone. His voice added, “By the Love of the Wanting Mother do we balance the weave of magic.”
At this point, there was a faint circle of wind that seemed to cyclone just outside the edge of the 5 party members, sending dust and grit to raise and fall, blowing about the room. Brendon squinted and raised his off arm to shelter his face as the power level increased. Wyn still held the ritual in his off hand and ignoring the St Elmo’s fire running across his skin, he read on. “The balancing power of the four watch over the elven nation and protect its people from harm. The Dawnlands in return promise to ever hold the hordes of Jector in the Dark.”
The light had begun to cycle slowly through the colors of the rainbow as a feeling of arcane forces swelled within the chamber. There was a faint roar of energy coming from somewhere. His body now throwing off blue sparks almost three feet in length, his hair a wild mane waving on an unseen breeze, Wyn grit his teeth and pushed on through the ritual. “May the Eye of Ishtari make real the will of the prism crowned.”
Brendon could no longer hear the hobgoblins outside as the roaring noise grew louder. He saw the 5 party members were awash in rainbow light, Wyn seemingly standing in a growing column of electrical fire. Light was pouring out of his face, nose, mouth, even his fingernails.
Feeling like he was being turned inside out and stretched to the limits of living endurance, Wyn forced himself to read off the final words of the ritual of the Ispan. “When the…jeweled Light’s…shine,” there was a pain growing in the back of his skull.
“…Is…needed…,” he could barely feel anything except raw energy running through him like a freight train. To the rest of the group, Wyn was literally floating 6 inches off the ground in a column of blue and white light, the Crystal was radiating energy in all directions, light playing about the room, wind scouring across the chamber. They were locked in place by their contact with their weapons, but they all looked at Wyn, imploring him to finish the last word.
Tears running down his cheeks, leaving scored marks in his flesh, Wyn choked on the flames in his throat and with a final burst of will, intoned with the strongest voice he could muster, the last word.
“MOST!”
A crackle of thunder sounded right outside the Ispan’s castle as a stroke of lightning arced down, blasted through the faintest cracks in the castles’ ceiling, and smote the Crystal with a goddess given bolt of power.
The wind roared to frenetic energy and Brendon watched as the bodies on the floor were tossed about, the crates scattered to the wall, and he was blasted to the back of the throne. But the room was awash in a repeated cycling color of rainbow lights emanating from the reactivated Ispan’s Crystal.
As for Wyn (2d6 turns: Orange 1, 2 = 3 turns), he had been knocked unconscious from the effort and lay at the base of the pedestal in a crumbled heap.
“Holy shit, he did it!” Lannis exclaimed.
“Let’s go people,” Kovid waved the group towards the open secret door, “There is no time to…”
“GRAAAAHHHH!!!!!!” The entire castle shook as something huge gave forth a howling cry of fury! “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
“And I think we pissed off the dragon,” Lyra said, bending down to lift Wyn off the ground. “Abraxas, please,” she asked, the fighter taking the elf’s other arm.
“RRRROOOOOAAAAAARRRR!!!”
The resounding smashing and beating at the door redoubled its intensity and effort as the horde tried to beat the door down. Brendon skipped off the throne, heading for the hall, the rest of the party filing in immediately behind him. Once inside, Lyra allowed Abraxas to lower Wyn to the ground while she fished out her scroll and read off the Cure Light Wounds spell there. (CLW 1d6+1, White 5 – Kovid heal 6!!) White healing energy poured into the dwarf, minimizing some of his many hurts, while the Fighter shoved the secret door back to the Throne room closed, making sure the lock was engaged.
The very stones of the castle seemed to vibrate as we could hear and feel the passage of something big. Very big. Dragon itself down the hall. Heading closer to the Throne room. And crying out, “RRRRRAAAAHHHH!! NOOOOOOO!!!! BRING THEM TO ME!!!!”
“Well,” Lannis drew a deep breath and let it out. “I’m at a loss for words.”
Time now is Day 8, 2:16 PM
(OOC)
XP: Ritual back up plus small assorted other things. Base 50 xp per.
Lannis and Brendon add 50 xp
Lyra, Kovid, and Abraxas add 95 xp
Wyn add 130 xp
Ritual is back up! And rainbow Ward is in place. And Corfard is FUCKING pissed. Hobs have been beating on the Throne room door and it is holding fine for now. Wyn you are unconscious for the next 30 minutes. What’s the plan?
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