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Bastion fell once, but never again. That's the view of the soldiers that have been gathering, and the rally from House Grayson is truly massive. It's one of the largest armies assembled in the Crownlands, and the navy is nearby along the river to support. The houses of the Crownlands have rallied to Grayson's banner, largely out of respect for the highlord, who has seen time and again at the battles for the Compact.

But they know what's coming. There's been harrying attacks on Azazel's legions through the crownlands. House Ashford trapped all of Ashford Keep, and many of its fabled trees of its tree city came crashing down on the legion. Roads were blocked, and houses surrendering their domains tried to bleed the legions as they pushed forward to Bastion. But they came on, and as the miles upon miles of the enemy creep into view, the Crownlands makes a stand to hold the enemy before they reach Arx, in the hope all the evacuated domains may have a chance to flee for the city.
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The enemy begins to come into view. It seems endless, just miles and miles of them starting to leave the treeline of the Gray Forest, a swarm of thousands upon thousands of shards. Twisted humans, abyssally tainted, most still wearing armor and holding arms of what they may have carried when human, or stripped from murdered shavs. Nor are they alone. Hundreds of hulking ogres, ettins, minotaurs walk with them, and slithering monstrosities that can only be demons with many maws. And the endless rows of banners bearing the maw of Azazel, the Eater of Stories.

The soldiers of House Grayson watch them come. There's a little time before they reach the edge of the range of siege weapons. Longer yet before they reach arrow range.

((OOC: There's a round of rolls for any terms of preparation, particularly of helping keep morale of troops. This doesn't count against the 5 rounds of battle, and is essentially a free round to increase the victory points the army grants. One round of poses, and then the battle begins, but all can check any form of leadership or war or social skills for this, at hard difficulty.))

Sabella checks charm and propaganda at hard. Sabella is successful.

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Liara is successful.

Lisebet checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Lisebet is successful.

Macda checks mana and performance at hard. Macda fails.

Tamsin checks command and leadership at hard. Tamsin fails.

Celeste checks command and war at hard. Celeste is successful.

Quintin checks stamina and war at hard. Quintin fails.

Vashtalyn checks dexterity and sewing at hard. Vashtalyn is successful.

Princess Sabella Grayson is /not/ a soldier, but here she stands among her family and her people to face what comes. The People's Princess. Even with literal nightmares streaming out of the Gray Forest toward her home, she stands with regal posture and even offers smiles to the troops around her. She's spent the last several hours in preparation talking with everyone she can, giving encouragement and making sure that she is seen as a symbol of what is at stake - if she is brave enough to be here, if she is willing to risk it all, so must they. Right? When an opportunity arises, she gives a short, uplifting speech. "Crownlanders! We have faced the unthinkable, and we have triumphed! Again and again, the Abyss send its horrors /and we do not back down/. This is our home! We stand in /Bastion/, the seat of the jewel of the Compact! Remember who you are! Remember there are NONE GREATER!"

Gunther checks intellect and teaching at hard. Botch! Gunther fails completely.

Liara's particular choice of how to spend the day up until now has involved, in part, walking among the army. She has spoken to groups of soldiers and asked what it is that they hope for after all this is done. And she has waited to hear them out. Of course, there are too many to ever hear from all of them, but she has perhaps prompted groups to have the same sorts of conversations. She in turn has told them of how she would like, when there is peace, to spend time among her family, to take her little sister's children to see the same parks that she so loved when she was young. It is perhaps an unusual form of motivation.

Then, when shouts from the walls indicate that the enemy has been seen, Liara takes a moment to finish what she was saying to one group, and then she removes herself to a place high on the walls of Grayhold's citadel, from where she can have a good view of all that is happening. Of all things, she produces a small badger plushie to set on a parapet nearby, after which she turns to confer with officers and begin to give instructions.

Quintin has been staying with the rangers. Listening to the pep talks and scanning the area putting his scout skills to good use. When he takes note of the enemy approaching he stands with the others and gets ready when the call is made. Pulling out his bow and notching an arrow as he lines himself up. Trying to remember to breathe and telling himself. "You are not killing people. There are no ghosts here." Hopefully the pep talk works.

Poised with the rest of the Grayson troops and clad in the same mismatched armor she wore at the battle against Orichalcum, Princess Macda Grayson is playing a lute with a broken string. She doesn't seem to have noticed, her eyes fixed on the encroaching hoard as her fingers shift up and down the neck of her instrument, encumbered by glove and gauntlet. She sings to the discordant chords of her melody, her voice a warm, husky soprano with notes of smoke and sunshine, but when their enemy breaks from the treeline, something in the Spellsinger's voice falters. The troops around her feel it, her quavering hope.

Tamsin has spent the boat ride to Bastion isolated, on her own ship. She's had them stop at every graveyard near the river so she could summon skeletons from the corpses of those buried, and each time the ship gets a little more full. The final stop was to pull free the skeletons of her siblings that had died in Bastion; they deserve one more chance to stab at the Abyss for what was done to them. So wave to the skeletons wearing jeweled coronets.

But all of this does not lead to the greatest feelings among the Army. And no matter how she extolls them for their virtues and impresses upon her less-than-a-full-horde of skeletons that they need to fight to save the living, that they need to conquer the Abyssals, the undead just stare blankly at their general.

[[MAGIC: Inspiration's Gift]] Vashtlayn Andalashari is here, dressed very simply in green and burgundy seatouched wool, her long black hair woven into a thick braid down to her waist, twined with brightly-colored ribbons. There is a calm serenity about her features, her expression kind and gentle, and a soft curve of her lips seems to radiate encouraging hope and inspiration. She does not carry any weapons on her person, but she does have a sewing kit with her of all things, and there is still something inspiring and hopeful about her presence.

The Ravashari seamstress and Bard stays near Sabella, because she knows Sabella best out of all the Graysons. She murmurs something to the Princess, and withdraws a small ribbon of glowing fabric from a bag she carries with her, offering it to the People's Princess. She then passes the little ribbons out to everyone around her, and they give off a general sense of hope that grows stronger, the more the ribbons are passed around. Hope and inspiration swell among the Grayson troops and nobility as the little strips of a new magical fabric, Dawnweave, are distributed, tied to arms, lapels, wrists, or twined in the hair like good luck charms. The delicate material is softer than the softest silk, and seems to be woven with threads of light somehow. The prismatic effect ripples through the fabric of the ribbons, which are slightly warm to the touch, in a way that is comforting. A reminder to Hope.

While others have been keeping morale high among the soldiers, Celeste has been getting to know the terrain and the city. She keeps swapping up escort squads with her, giving personal time from a commander to the troops, as she goes through. Notes are relayed to Liara via messenger and a strategy begins to form. She seems to know what she's doing, she remains calm, she talks sensible strategy and this begins to fill the army she brought with a sense of ... hope, perhaps. A sense they can do it.

Lisebet is not a warrior, but she's here, rather like Sabella. She's got the Ashford Forces and they know that these demons and shards have come through Ashford lands. "People of Ashford, we know why we're here. We came to lend our strength to Bastion, because we are stronger together." Her voice carries as she projects, trained singer that she is. She's wearing a mishmash of armour, intent on keeping herself as safe as she can, but she's still here. "We are Ever Rising and there are None Greater. Together, we will win." She stands tall, meeting the eyes of those who are near enough with integrity and belief. There's strength in that belief.

Claude reaches slowly into a pair of small pouches and spreads the contents at his feet, soil in one hand and beach sand in another. He then stands upon it slowlying unslinging the heavy warhammer from his back. Servants of the Abyss took his birthplace and then his adopted home of Deepwood was turned to ash. He is determined not to let it happen a third time. He lets out a soft resigned breath as the hordes approach the walls.

Claude wields Sunder, a massive diamondplate warhammer.

Quintin wields longbow.

Gunther was tired. He was exhausted from fighting and assisting to help evacuate the roads for many days. He was not in his own armor anymore. He had been brained and taken a bow to the chest and now has borrowed ill-fitted Grayson insignia armor on his body. The squire to the Knights of Solace had witnessed the fall of two of his charges. And in the chaos, he worked and fell in with the Grayson army. Gunther never stopped getting the common folk out. He succored them and championed them in all accounts of his undertaking. He wouldn't abandon the road until he could feel the tremble of the approaching feet. As he saw to defenses Gunther started to help give instructions to conscripts, common folk that were afraid no doubt, and so he sought to give them some pointers. "I reckon they'll come hard..." And the likely eldest squire in the books lets out an exhale and covers his chest with his gauntlet. Whatever speech he was about to give to the people is lost and they are left bewildered as the man just leaves them right then and there. And the little man in his armor hobbles off to a corner with one hand against his breast. He pulls out a little parchment and then removes one gauntlet tugging with his teeth. Gunther produces a pack and then sits down and starts to write. Whatever he writes it is short. Some note of sorts. And he takes this note and slides it down into his cuirass and against his chest. Gunther grunts, gets to his feet, struggles to get ready and he looks around him briefly. The old man lets out a sigh as he prepares for what's to come.

No call to action or leadership is made from Gaspard. No inspiring speech from one of the Blackram Giants. Gaspard stood there in his armor, blade wielded in one hand as he stood in the front line, sticking out a bit like a sore thumb. He stands there. Ready. Willing. "Alright lads....let's kill them first. They don't get past us." The road was long, the boat ride even longer. But he lifts his head to look towards Tamsin for a moment, as if to get a final glance, before his eyes lie ahead. Ready.

There's cheers on the walls, the soldiers rallying from the encouragement. Final preparations are made, as all eyes on the walls watch the swarm advance. The ground vibrates under the rumbles of the bests thundering forward, echoed by the drums of Azazel's forces. There's a sound of laughter, a hungry sound, and gutteral chants in Abyssal as they come on. Slowly but slowly, into range.

The first siege weapons fire, Grayson Trebuchets dropping boulders on them that roll holes in their lines. Spears the size of small trees shoot straight lines from ballistae, as a hulking giant swears and clutches at one caught in its eye. A few boulders are thrown in response by ettins, hitting against the walls of Bastion. A tower collapses.

And then they enter arrow range. A massive flight goes up from both sides, and the charge begins.

Scaling ladders are only a matter of time, and ettins surge forward at the walls.

((Round 1: Previous rolls amplify the troops by 5 victory points. All can roll choice of stat + skill at hard to influence the battle, fails result in damage. If using magic, note it for the roll))

Tamsin checks command and leadership at hard. Tamsin is successful.

Sabella checks charm and propaganda at hard. Sabella is successful.

Claude checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Claude fails.

Quintin checks perception and war at hard. Quintin is successful.

Lisebet checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Lisebet is successful.

Gaspard checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Gaspard marginally fails.

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Liara is successful.

Celeste checks command and war at hard. Celeste is successful.

Vashtalyn checks mana and sewing at hard. Vashtalyn is successful.

Gunther checks strength and athletics at hard. Gunther fails.

Thesarin checks command and war at hard. Thesarin is successful.

[MAGIC - attack/Unwelcome Guest] Sabella braces herself and continues to call out encouragement to the troops as the Abyssal horde advances. Soon enough - too soon - they are within range for the battle to begin. Her cerulean eyes darken with determination as she pulls to her full height. "Azazel's minions are not welcome in Bastion! They are not welcome in the Crownlands! PUSH THEM BACK!" When her voice lifts defiantly, a wave of sheer force emanates out from her hands, battering the nearest foes.

[Magic] With the enemy so close, the ground trembling, Lisebet closes her eyes for a moment, centering herself. She raises one hand, palm up, concentrating. She's not known as a mage, and not so long ago said she wasn't one. Things change. Her baby blue eyes sparkle just a little as she says, "Wouldn't you rather not?" Just that, a kind of glitter of bright green swirling around her head and then she moves her hand like she's tossing something, and the green flicks out over the wall and down. She wrinkles her nose, hearing her own words echoed back to her. Echo, echo, echo, and then it's back to the sounds of battle, and the incoming hunger. She looks around briefly to see if anyone noticed. Probably not.

Macda checks mana and performance at hard. Macda marginally fails.

As the first boulders are flung from Bastion's walls, Tamsin gives orders to her Skeletons. "To the walls! Feed arrows to archers and repel the ladders and hooks that come upon us!" She raises her scythe, the curved diamondplate blade dripping with shadows that run along its length in an animated, unnatural manner. The necromancer moves with her undead, distributing them along the soon-to-be scaled walls to help out in the best way they can. They are not great combatants, but the skeletons do great menial tasks. Like pick up arrows and offer them to archers so the latter need not move as much, or pushing ladders and ropes off the high walls when scalers make their attempts.

%[CANTRIP: Beat the War Drums%] Celeste does not draw her sword, but she does face the irregulars who have marched here from the Lyceum. "Now you give me your all. Now you fight with my Will." The words are said with a heat and passion to them and a moment later a dark aura flares around the blonde general. Like a miasma on a breeze it floats across the soldiers and, as one, they stamp their feet. Drums begin to be heard, beating a deep, bass rhythm that sounds oddly like a heart-beat. In perfect unison, Celeste leads the archers to the wall, each one taking the same steps at the same time, as if they were one, cohesive creature and not hundreds of individuals. As one they draw their bows. As one they loose their arrows to rain chaos down among the enemy. And as one they reknock and do it again. One might think they were the most practiced army ever and not recent conscripts.

"Here they come!" Screams Gaspard, his weapon lifted and his hands grip around the hilt of the blade. "Stand ready! Kick those fucking ladders down as soon as they get up here! GIVE EM HELL!" his voice bellows.

[MAGIC: Threads of Hope] As the onslaught arrives, Vashtalyn pulls out a sewing needle, but she doesn't sew any physical threads. She seems to use it more like a conductor, weaving threads of hope and inspiration into a shield that slowly expands around her and those near her. The shield radiates hope, and is bright enough with likely Elysian magic that it might be rather unpleasant for Abyssal creatures to look at. She expands the shield out as far as she dares, to hopefully protect herself, Sabella, maybe Liara and anyone else standing near them within a five yard radius.

As ettins surge at the walls Gunther tries to help by pushing over a cauldron but his arms can't get around the heavy material. Normally he was freakishly strong for such endeavors, but something was off or the squire as he can't tip over the bubbling and boiling pitch to assist. Again, he lets out a sigh and frowns as he peers over the wall (getting on a crate to get the necessary height to see over it) and to look below. The little bare-knuckled brawling squire just stares with his mouth agape at the endless horde and monstrosities before them. He bites his lower lip and feels waves of panic enter him and he gets nauseous. There is terror in his eyes for a time as he tries to muster his courage. "Come on, Sally. Give me strength. I got this one fight left in me, please. I gotta. Thems a lot of innocent people behind this evil. Ain't had no cups since you done me right, but I could use some of them words you was always good at in my head right now. I'm gonna do my best for you."

Gunther checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Gunther is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Gunther does not take a permanent wound.

Claude checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Claude marginally fails.

Claude checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Claude is successful.

Claude remains capable of fighting.

Again, Quintin stands at the ready when he sees the enemy closer and he tells those around him, "Be at the ready. They will be upon us before we know it!" He doesn't consider himself a leader but these are his friends and he has trained with them. Ready to let his arrow go when the enemy gets closer.

[MAGIC] Standing atop the citadel wall, Liara reviews the brief notes sent by Celeste. She takes in the positions of various others, including the Graysons present - with a faint smile at the sight of her sister Macda - and leaders among them. And then, she relays further orders. They are brisk and efficient. She picks out the commander of a company of reserve soldiers. "Do not let them pass that breach." The officer hurries off to assemble the soldiers to array behind where the tower had collapsed. She continues in like fashion, and the alacrity and precision with which the orders are adhered to is perhaps not wholly mundane.

As the bright shield expands, Liara gives a small incline of her head to Vashtalyn, affording her a flicker of a smile, even with all that is happening.

Claude moves toward the edge of the wall preparing to repel the first wave up the ladder but as he does so the flight of enemy arrows catches him in several spots. Claude drops suddenly to his knees grunting in pain. It looks for a moment like he might collapse completely before hands grip about his hammer and he pulls himself slowly to his feet.

The nearer and nearer they drew to the battle, the more and more obvious in became. Nowhere among the thousands and thousands of soldiers gathering at Bastion was a single sign of Riven or its heron banner. Not a word came of their approach, nor of their refusal of the call. The only sign of any hope that they might come is a pair of white-tailed eagles occasionally spotted in the keep, the birds too far inland, too far from their natural habitat, to belong here. But then -- just then! -- as the hordes begin to descend on Bastion, they see it. Twin banners on the horizon: the blue and white herons of House Riven matched with the might green oak of House Sylvas. Those first banners snap in the wind as their forces line the nearest ridge: an army fifteen thousand strong, with Thesarin and Mia riding at its front, the Marquessa boldly wearing her slain father's crown.

Mia checks command and leadership at normal. Mia is successful.

[MAGIC] Macda accepts the favor of a ribbon from Vashtalyn and ties it around her wrist where it gleams like a filament of liquid sunlight. She continues to strum her lute and sing, her melody rising with the approach of the hoard, but still, something is missing. Eyes closed for a moment against the oncoming chaos, she attempts to summon her power but loses her morale when she reopens them to see a tower in her home city fall.

[MAGIC: Not on My Lawn] At first, it seems the rumbling of the earth is from the steady march of so many soldiers feet stamping in time in their long march across the Crownlands. But Mia raises her voice from the fore of her army, declaring in a loud and clear call, "The horde of Azazel has taken our farms, our city, our lands, our home! But the Twainfort is more than a land -- it is our people, come together as one! Each moment that we hold the enemy here buys time for those we love. Stand firm. Hold fast. Have courage. WE WILL GIVE THEM NO MORE! For Kin and Honor!" As her voice carries, it isn't just the army she unleashes, but the land itself, trembling and twisting in response.

The Battle has begun. Shards begin dying by the hundreds then the thousands as they run into the massed fire of Grayson archery, and they come in as if indifferent to losses. A score of minotaurs and ettins are throwing boulders up at the Grayson walls, and one grazes Gunther, quite nearly taking him off, while a raine of arrows falls around Claude. The first ladders are trying to be placed around Bastion's walls, but the arrival of House Riven catches the shards offguard, and many of the first attempts to scale the walls are brushed aside by the Riven charge. There's a cheer on the walls, but it's short lived- the first beholders begin to show, and blasts of fire and lightning begin to rain over the Grayson lines.

((OOC: Victory Points, 72. Enemy turn, will be defensive checks, I'll do a mass luck check, and then those that fail will need to do defensive checks at daunting, hard, or normal for botch, fail, marginal fail respectively))

Apostate has called for a check of luck at normal.
Kalakh is successful.
Gunther is successful.
TIE: Lisebet is successful. Thesarin is successful. Macda is successful.
Vashtalyn is successful.
Gaspard is successful.
TIE: Sabella marginally fails. Quintin marginally fails. Smile marginally fails.
TIE: Celeste fails. Mia fails. Tamsin fails.
Liara fails.
Botch! Claude fails completely.

[Magic] Riven's hose is a mix of warriors trained as Prodigal cavalry and Compact knights riding in a galloping charge to the horde of nightmares, and Thesarin rides back and forth among them, directing them at their charge, before he turns his own horse to join them as they ride. The Marquis has forgone his Compact silks and styles for furs, war paint, and beaded braids, every inch a shav warlord done out in star iron and diamondplate, screaming encouragement and threats. Scarecely less fearsome than the monsters that oppose them. He rides among them, with a horrible laugh accompaniyin his shouts.

Claude checks dexterity and dodge at daunting. Claude is successful.

Sabella checks charm and propaganda at normal. Sabella is successful.

Liara checks dexterity and dodge at easy. Critical Success! Liara is inhumanly successful in a way that defies expectations.

Tamsin checks dexterity and dodge at easy. Tamsin is successful.

Quintin checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Quintin is successful.

Celeste checks dexterity and dodge at easy. Celeste marginally fails.

Gunther checks strength and brawl at hard. Gunther fails.

[MAGIC - defense/Sanctuary] As more ranged atacks come in, Sabella holds her hands out and lifts them up into the air. As she does, a glimmering, golden light surrounds many of the defenders, taking the shape of Grayhold itself as a shield of protection from the deadly rain. They bounce off of the ephemeral structure ineffectively.

Just as Claude was regaining his footing and beginning to raise his hammer again he spots another hail of arrows heading right for him. He dives to take cover behind the nearest parapet as they barely miss. He looks skyward a moment mumbling several curses under his breath before pulling himself to his feet once again.

As Tamsin helps direct her skeletons into useful tasks, she sees the shimmer of golden light take form around her and dives for cover. Lightning and arrows may bounce harmlessly off of the defensive magic, but she was prepared to have something worse happen. Rolling up to her feet she sticks in close tot he wall's cover and behind the light of Sabella's shielding.

Gunther is peering over the edge when a large boulder comes crashing through and spins him around until he finds his metal fingers scraping for purchase. His lower legs hanging over the wall as he watches shards of the boulder burst around him and roll over another person just behind his position. The man can't breathe and he struggle to right himself. There is blood in his face and eyes and he can't see so well as he fights for breath. There is then fire and lightning pouring over him and impacting people all around him. He stumbles back to the ground just trying to get up let alone contribute. Unable to do so Gunther starts crawling on his hands and knees back along the wall in search of something to use to help get himself to standing. He can taste copper in his mouth. His cuirass is ruined. Ribs are broken. The wheezing squire looks around in a daze unable to coordinate his limbs and catch his breath.

The arrival of the rivens and the massed defense has held the walls so far, and the shards are taking devastating losses trying to scale the walls. But their numbers seem endless. It extends miles beyond into the treeline of the Gray Forest, and the shards continue on careless of losses. The defensive magics on the field help rally the soldiers who were terrified by the arrival of the beholders, and cheers go up, particularly as the troops look to the blood royal of their house, and the beacon that they serve in this darkness. Screams of, "NONE GREATER!" are hard up and down the lines, even as the lightning and fire rains in, and the amount of thrown boulders intensify.

A number of ogres and scrambling up the dead shards and vaulting up to grasp the top of the walls, the terrifying hulks pulling themselves up to begin to assault in a grand melee.

((Round 2: VP Total 72. Can roll again at hard and just note if it's magical, all the same rules as round 1.))

Quintin will take any help he can get as he lets arrows go. He also did tie that ribbon that Vashtalyn gave out earlier onto his wrist. Staying focused at the task on hand. He did stumble for a moment but he's upright again and still fighting with as many arrows as he has in his quiver.

Gaspard checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Gaspard fails.

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Botch! Liara fails completely.

Sabella checks charm and propaganda at hard. Sabella is successful.

Mia checks command and leadership at normal. Mia is successful.

Lisebet checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Critical Success! Lisebet is spectacularly successful.

Celeste checks command and war at hard. Celeste marginally fails.

Claude checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Claude fails.

Quintin checks perception and war at hard. Quintin is successful.

Tamsin checks command and leadership at hard. Critical Success! Tamsin is spectacularly successful.

Vashtalyn checks dexterity and sewing at hard. Vashtalyn is successful.

Gunther checks strength and brawl at hard. Gunther marginally fails.

Thesarin checks strength and medium wpn at hard. Thesarin marginally fails.

Macda checks dexterity and brawl at hard. Macda is successful.

Lightning! Arrows! Weapons! Gaspard is unscathed through it all! "Missed, ya core-rotten bastards! KEEP FIRING!" Gaspard orders the archers around him, his blade raised and swinging as he keeps cover behind the shields upon the wall. "Not bad for a date, aye Princess?!" Gaspard laughs as he orders the archers to fire at will, the giant kin of a man trying to stand his ground upon the walls. A spear is thrown from his hand but alas! It finds no such target in his attack.

%[MAGIC - Basic Adept Badassery%] "We need those beholders down! Concentrate your fire on the round ones!" Celeste is so busy giving orders to her archers that she fails to notice some of the enemy fire coming right at her. She dives at the last moment, but it's not going to be enough. Not until Liara saves her ass. Celeste says, "Thanks," and gets to her feet.

With so many soldiers coming over the wall, or trying to, Celeste draws her longsword. A few words in a harsh language and teh blonde is swelling in size, her skin darkening toward ebony, her eyes red. Sometimes a general has to lead by example, and Celeste begins by lopping off heads and kicking shards off the wall with Sparta-worthy kicks of legs made stronger than their nature. "FOR BASTION!" she cries out in a voice that booms. The dawnweave tied to her arm looks out of place now, a pinprick of light in a smoking darkness.

[MAGIC: Not in My House (last round)/Get Off My Lawn (this round)] That crown marks her as the head of a people, the head of an army, a prime target - and Mia knows it. When the a hideous beast, one of the ettins, sets it sights on her, a gloved hand reaches for her belt, for one of several ingots of gleaming metal that has been strung there like a talisman or a trophy. It swiftly loses all of its lustre, turning sickly pale and dull, as the grasses beneath the ettin's feet lenghten, twist, and wrap around its legs, binding it still. Meanwhile, trees begin to stretch forward, their branches lashes at the banner-bearers furiously.

[MAGIC - attack/Unwelcome Guest] For a fleeting moment, Sabella stands and marvels at the golden Grayhold she summoned, allowing a small smile to slip free as she lifts a prayer to Gild. Then, her attention is back on the horde, and the light is fading. She glances to Vashtalyn, Liara, and a few others around her, checking to see that things are as okay as they can be before striding forward. Her hands come up again, pushing another wave of force out at the attackers. "THE ABYSS WILL FIND NO QUARTER HERE!"

Claude checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Claude is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Claude does not take a permanent wound.

Claude checks 'unconsciousness save' at daunting. Claude is successful.

Claude remains capable of fighting.

When Gaspard makes the call for archers to fire at will that is exactly what Quintin does and he is heard amongst his group, "You heard the man! Fire! Let's get these bastards!" He is still holding strong for now but he is determined and continues to fight. Again, he lets his arrow go when Celeste makes the call to.

[[MAGIC OFFENSIVE: DAWNFIRE]] With a little loop-dee-loop motion, Vashtalyn ties off her shield and as the beholders are brought to bear, Vashtalyn's eyes widen just a bit, but she maintains her calm. She lifts her sewing needle again, holding it like a wand or something, and directs more threads of magic into a ball of dawnfire that grows and grows in shades of prismatic blues, lavenders, rose and apricot light. A final gilded gleam of right golden ribbon filled with nasty hope and inspiration that Abyssal creatures likely hate, and shoots through the fireball. The normally peaceful Ravashari seamstress calls, "We shall prevail! Hold onto Hope!" she cries, and her inspiring presence seems to brighten around her into a warm radiance. She hurls the dawnfire into one of the beholders.

[MAGIC] There's a bit of dawnweave from Vashtalan that Lisebet also has attached to her wrist. Because that makes perfect sense to her. She is lucky enough that none of the incoming terrors head her way for the moment, allowing her the opportunity to observe what is happening. Hopefully her previous spell did something. She concentrates, spying a particular target coming up the walls and aiming over for command central. This time Lisebet focuses on that one - monster, her eyes glowing blue, as she says louder, "Wouldn't you rather just not?" Even if it works only for a moment, it will help. She's sure of that. The echo of her words in her head has her mutter to herself under her breath, but only briefly. "Ever Rising and None Greater! Push them back!"

[MAGIC - THRENODY] "Don't stop just yet," Tamsin says to Gaspard. "Make it a memorable date!" She turns away from the Blackram to look at the approaching demons. The shadow-swarmed scythe is lifted and she points the smaller blade at one of the beholders. "Now you rush, and turn to mush, all these beholders, they begin to smolder, let them take their last breath, and know the touch of death!" It's not the greatest poem, but in the middle of a battle, what do you expect?

[Magic - attack] Thearin rides on even as the Riven cavalry riding on the field starts to wheel, as the endles hordes of shards seem to spill forth. His Alaracite blade swings through the hosts and he finlly starts to turn, but too late--he's unhorsed, he's on the ground, and the monsters are here. He fights his way to his feet, quite literally, swinging his blade with bone-crishing strength and snarling his defiance at the demons.

"Fuck it," Macda mutters, words only she can hear in the ensuing furor. Melee is her element. Strapping her lute to her back, she raises her fists, throws back her head, and charges with a roar of, "NONE GREATER!" toward the abyssals who threaten her home. Eyes blazing, the petite blonde princess hurls herself into it with as much force and rage as the lightning that strikes all around her, bashing a shard in the face before whirling to punch an ogre in the throat. The ribbon of dawnweave that circles her left wrist winks in homage to Vashtalyn's benison of hope.

Gunther can't catch a break. As soon as he is up, he's back down again and pinned by a beast he can't see because of the blood in his eyes. But some other man, someone Gunther will never know -- felled the beast on him before falling with it over the edge of the wall with a shriek. Gunther has his gauntlets up protecting his face. He is on his back like a turtle and kicking ineffectually at battling foes. He has no idea what's going on at a grand scale. There is only the chaos around him, and he is floundering thus far. The squire fights to get upright and he does so as another wave crests the top of the walls, and he tries to dig deep to keep at least struggling and trying to fight.

Claude swings his hammer in a wide arc over his head and moves to bring a crushing blow upon one of the enemies climbing the wall but his swing goes wild and as he is momentarily off-balance said enemy brings a mace crashing into Claude's skull. The Carpenter staggers backward as his helm barely saves his head from turning to mush. Claude takes a huge breath, hefting his hammer again and moves forward.

Liara drops to the ground in time to get out of the way of a ball of fire that goes hurtling past overhead, and with it she pulls Celeste to the ground too. She lands there on the rampart with a clatter of armour. Then as she pulls herself back to her feet, she turns to try to get her bearings once more. She spots the wounded Gunther further along the wall, her brow knitting, a glimmer of recognition in her eyes, but it's really not the time for her to try to place faces. She murmurs, "We need to pull back the wounded," but it's not an order, and certainly not effective at directing anyone. Luckily for her, there are heroes about.

Despite the ogres above, the walls are holding better than might be hoped. There's a push by the Grayson lines that has a dozen of the behemoths tumbling back down, landing and crushing shards below. One minotaur falls screaming from the parapets covered with a dozen skeletons, that then leap up to continue attacking shards after they land. Fire lances up at the beholders, with dozens tumbling from the skies, and others retreating downward to evade Grayson fire, which limits their return fire the nonce. There's a brief moment of confusion when it looks like a hundred scaled chickens race forward past shards to scramble up their corpses, and then do little flapping leaps to land at the top of the walls. They look ridiculous, but as they peck Grayson soldiers, the soldiers scream and turn to stone.

((OOC: Victory Points 131, will do luck checks, but wait a moment on defensive rolls. Massed magic defenses will get one difficulty harder to do them AoE per turn.))

Apostate has called for a check of luck at normal.
Vashtalyn is successful.
Tamsin is successful.
TIE: Liara marginally fails. Lisebet marginally fails. Gaspard marginally fails. Thesarin marginally fails.
TIE: Sabella fails. Kalakh fails. Smile fails. Mia fails. Celeste fails. Gunther fails. Macda fails.
TIE: Botch! Quintin fails completely. Botch! Claude fails completely.

Sabella checks charm and propaganda at normal. Sabella is successful.

Thesarin checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Thesarin is successful.

Mia checks command and leadership at normal. Mia is successful.

Gaspard checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Gaspard is successful.

Claude checks dexterity and dodge at easy. Claude is successful.

Quintin checks dexterity and dodge at easy. Quintin is successful.

Quintin checks dexterity and dodge at easy. Quintin is successful.

Chickens that turn people to stone? No thanks! "Knock those chickens off the wall! Don't let them touch the soliders!" Tamsin demands of her skeletons. Skeletons that begin to chase Foul Fowl around so real soldiers don't have to. The princess herself uses the longer reach of her scythe to repeat a few of the birds while just batting others away before they can get to her. "Get those off the wall," she gives the order, indicating skeletons that have turned to stone and can no longer move; without hesitation their compatriots begin lobbing stone-bones off the wall to land on shards trying to come up the wall.

The shard that almost caved in Claude's head attempts to finish the job, Claude manages to lift up his hammer in time to parry the blow, grunting with the effort.

[MAGIC (burned a dragonweep} - defense/Sanctuary] Whatever those chicken things are? Sabella's NOT having it! She's weakening, though, and falls to her knees to rummage in her pouch for a rare gem. She smashes it on the ground beneat her her fist, and she does, the golden Grayhold rises again to protect as many of the defenders as possible. The princess holds there, breathing heavily.

The arrival of the cluck of cockatrices does cause chaos on the walls, though soldiers are starting to react, however horrifying seeing companions immediately petrified might be. Some eight legged lizards are crawling forward as well, their gaze up leaving also soldiers petrified in their wake. Skeletons rush to shoo cockatrices off, protests of 'BAWK BAWK' as some go sailing from the walls and land on ettins, leaving massive statues down below. A number of the siege weapons in the rear of Grayson lines suddenly explode, and there's a score of floating shards in robes flying over them, hurling fireballs down while archers try to return fire from below.

Shard scaling ladders are in place along the walls of Bastion, with thousands of shards trying to scramble up, though they are still being killed in immense numbers by the defenders. The battle's intensity reaches a fevered pitch, though there's still no end in sight of Azazel's forces.

((Round 3: 131 Victory Points. Same rules/rolls as before, just be sure to note magic, and if you have used magic 3 times without a source of primum to sustain, it'll begin to be mana checks to see if you take damage, let me know.))

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Liara is successful.

Mia checks command and leadership at normal. Mia is successful.

All Quintin remembers he was down being hit by something or the other and he has to catch his breath but he rises again such as the ghosts he has seen in the battlefield. Can't put an Ashford down. He straightens trying to not look ruffled as he pulls another arrow out of his quiver. Mumbling to himself but others could hear him, "This dance is getting mighty old. You all just need to go away and stay dead!" Real big threat there.

Gaspard checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Gaspard fails.

Lisebet checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Lisebet is successful.

Macda checks dexterity and brawl at hard. Botch! Macda fails completely.

Gunther checks strength and brawl at hard. Gunther marginally fails.

Quintin checks perception and war at hard. Botch! Quintin fails completely.

Sabella checks charm and propaganda at hard. Sabella is successful.

Claude checks dexterity and huge wpn at hard. Claude fails.

Tamsin checks command and leadership at hard. Tamsin is successful.

Thesarin checks strength and medium wpn at hard. Thesarin is successful.

Celeste checks command and war at hard. Celeste is successful.

"Aye! I can do that!" Gaspard calls to Tamsin with a loud, healthy laugh. His blade hacks and slashes away at the enemies that dare set foot on those walls, his weapon swings for the fences! The problem is, his size is making moving around in such a tight space difficult, so he's forced to just try and push that line forward, keep those fucking monsters off of the wall. "PUSH! IS this the best you can do lads?! PUSH!" He laughs, swinging his sword.

Vashtalyn checks dexterity and sewing at hard. Vashtalyn is successful.

Gaspard checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Gaspard is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Gaspard does not take a permanent wound.

Macda checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Macda is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Macda does not take a permanent wound.

Macda checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Macda is successful.

Macda remains capable of fighting.

Quintin checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Quintin fails.

Quintin has suffered a serious wound!

Quintin checks 'unconsciousness save' at daunting. Quintin fails.

Quintin is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Claude checks 'death save' at normal. Claude marginally fails.

Claude has died.

[MAGIC] Liara turns on her heel at the sudden noise from amid the catapults and other siege engines, and she promptly turns to a company of archers high on the citadel walls, currently still shooting at the shards far beyond, and calls to them, "Shoot at the flying ones!" Then, quite cognisant of the problems with shooting while people are still down below, she raises her voice further, "Withdraw from the catapults until the shards are cleared away!" It might be an odd order in the midst of battle, and it's unclear if her voice should even carry that far - but it is followed all the same.

[MAGIC: burn a jade stone] Lisebet can feel the tiredness starting to sink in. She's still standing there, though it's thanks to Sabella's quick thinking that she manages to not get hit by the arrow that just barely brushes by. "Too close," she murmurs. Too close. "How are there so many of them?" She's been sort of in battles before, enough that she's now able to stand her ground. She got hurt last time and went to the wounded tent. So far, this time? She's hanging in there, determined. She has a dragonweep, courtesy of Liara and she smashes it, much as Sabella did earlier. Her eyes gleam somewhat green, instead of their baby blue, jade green. Her gaze goes up to those flying robed folks and her hand reaches up fast, "Not this time," she hisses, and green glowing disks go catapulting up towards them.

Poor Quintin he tried so hard to continue but one of the monsters got him and all he can remember is falling to the ground and left over arrows spilling to the ground. He's not dead but unconscious with a serious wound. It doesn't look great.

Thesarin wields Guardian, a long arming sword with a razor-thin edge and a dawnstone set at the center of the crossguard.

Gunther gets to his feet and is shoving at a creature larger and stronger than him trying to push it over. The little man's feet keep churning, and he does everything right except move the creature and instead he loses ground and a couple of scalers get around the gap and through to the lines. The clang of steel and shock of fighting now just behind him as Gunther struggles at the wall. The man is weary and tired. Sweat and blood poor from his brow. He can hear death, cries, clashes of metal, and the smell of things that shouldn't be burning.

[MAGIC - Maneuverabiliy is Key] Looking over the wall, Celeste peers at the enemy forces. She covers her forehead in that classic looking pose while surveying things. "Keep those arrows going," she calls out to her archers without actually looking at them. There! She spots something and a grim smile appears on dark lips. "Zaffria Company, prepare for immediate battle!"

Immediately two portals open, parallel to the ground. One is over Celeste and is large enough for her to fit through. The other is massive and appears over an entire company of infantry waiting in the courtyard. The portals are ragged at the edges, filled with black smoke and something glowing red. From them burst forth armored tentacles that wrap around Celeste and the soldiers, one at a a time and whip them through, swallowing them in darkness. The portals vanish and the blonde general and an entire company of soldiers are just gone.

Moments later fresh portals open in the middle of the shard and demon army. Bodies are hurled out by glistening tentacles before the portals, and tentacles, disappear. Immediately the soldiers begin fighting for their lives while a familiar figure, Celeste, begins to engage a commanding figure. It's a lot of back and forth that some from the wall may miss, but the Adept manages to swing her alaricite blade through the gorget, and neck, of the commander, kicking the headless corpse down while her men keep her safe from the press of shards all around.

[MAGIC: OFFENSIVE - DAWNFIRE - Sacrificing Dragonweep] Vashtalyn lifts a hand, wiping beads of sweat from her brow as she tries to maintain her earlier shield of hope around herself, Liara and Sabella, but it eventually winks out, and just in time, as Sabella's golden Grayhold resumes its protection. The Andalashari seamstress sees what Sabella is doing with that gem, and she fingers the pouch at her waist with a worried expression. But then, determined, she draws a similar gemstone from her pouch, and lifts it in her hand, the Dragonweep glittering. She uses her left hand to draw primum directly from it, threads of it restoring some of her strength. The gem crumbles in her hand, and then disappears, and the drops of sweat do not return for the moment. The Seamstress weaves again, glancing up and hurling brilliant dawnfire at the flying shards.

Vashtalyn checks mana at hard. Vashtalyn is successful.

[MAGIC: Get Off My Lawn] There's a sudden surge forward from the Twainfort's archers -- no small number of them clad in green, and not blue, their faces carved with the ethereal beauty of elves rather than humanity. For a brief moment, there's nothing, then a call of "FIRE!" before shots arc high, darkening a portion of the sky as the target the shards floating above. The elves the Compact fought at Harrow Hall are now fighting *with* the Compact at Bastion, and Mia has called up a hail of stones from the earth to join the arrows soaring over head, her blast aimed at directly at one shard raining fire down on a unit of charging pike.

Sabella remains knelt on the stones, breathing in deeply, pulling herself together as the nightmare continues around her. With every bit of perseverance she can muster, she pushes up off her knees to her feet and yells, "REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE! YOU HAVE STOOD AGAINST THE METALLIC TRAITOR - THE KINSLAYER - AND WON! WE DID NOT WIN THE FREEDOM OF OUR STORIES NOT TO WRITE THEM! REPEL THE EATER'S ARMIES!"

Claude swings his hammer in a vicious arc toward the shard in front of him causing it to crumple to the ground. He then charges forward as more enemies pour over the walls, swinging wildly in an attempt to catch as many foes as once. Several more fall to the weight of that massive hammer. But the Carpenter gets caught in a pocket of enemies and swing as he might eventually his strength and his stamina fail him. He is surrounded, battered, and falls to his knees defeated his hammer slips from his grip as the life leaves his eyes.

For all Macda's determination and madness and berserker's rage, she pushes too far into the line of enemy attackers. Surrounded, she grits her teeth and spins in a tight, fast circle, her fists flying, but it is not enough for the crush that closes in on her.

"AGH!" Gaspard is suddenly impaled through the stomach! Though with a roar of pain, he manages to push the attacker away into a swing from someone else. He coughs up blood, he falls to a knee. "NONE GREATER THAN GRAYSON!" Gaspard roars, seeing Claude fall. "MAKE THEM PAY A HUNDRED FOLD FOR EVERY LIFE LOST!"

[Magic - Wildfire] Thesarin stands alone among the monsters, where the Riven charge had faltered and swung around; the soldiers are making another push, but the enemy numbers are overwhelming. There should be nothing keeping him being from overrun. But he's still standing, grey blade in one hand, red axe in the other, wading through nightmares with a series of crushing blows into the horde, smashing through the horrors with each blow (no one's that strong), cutting out a swathe for the soldiery to push into an exploit.
As he fights, panting and screaming, with every swing and every step he takes licks of flame start to follow him, smouldering and smoking in his bootprints, and starting to burn its way out from one of the ogres when he leaves his sword buried into its thigh.

Most of the petrifying antagonists have been driven back, even as Grayson losses continue to mount. The fight is brutal, and even veterans of the long string of conflicts from the King's Rest to now are struggling with its intensity. There's a sound of beating wings, and the skies darken above. There's swooping as large winged lizards, with just two legs rather than the four of dragons, and long spiked tails land along the walls. Many use their spiked tails to spear Grayson soldiers, though Grayson pike is trying to do their best to hold them back. A massive three headed giant, at least three times the height of most of the ettins on the ground, thunders out from the treeline and begins to climb over the Grayson walls.

((OOC: Victory Points: 201. Barring a catastrophic number of botches, Bastion holds. Let me know if you use magic in response to the coming luck rolls.))

Apostate has called for a check of luck at normal.
Critical Success! Vashtalyn is spectacularly successful.
TIE: Liara is successful. Gunther is successful.
TIE: Quintin is successful. Gaspard is successful. Mia is successful.
Tamsin is successful.
TIE: Sabella is successful. Thesarin is successful.
Smile marginally fails.
Macda marginally fails.
Kalakh fails.
TIE: Botch! Celeste fails completely. Botch! Lisebet fails completely.

Lisebet checks charm and diplomacy at normal. Lisebet is successful.

With the wyverns and giant now on the walls, the defenses of Bastion are imperiled, but there is hope. The amount of shards lying dead on the field is both horrifying and reassuring, as the ends of their lines are now visible- it no longer extends into the treelines, and while all are still moving to attack, there's cheers from the walls of Bastion as it looks like the city might hold.

Losses, however, continue to mount.

((OOC: Round 4, 201 Victory Points. Feel free to check and let me know if you use magic. If you have had 3 casts, either burn an item or mana check afterwards for damage.))

Sabella checks charm and propaganda at hard. Sabella is successful.

Macda checks mana and performance at hard. Macda is successful.

Gunther checks strength and brawl at hard. Gunther is successful.

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Liara is successful.

Lisebet checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Lisebet marginally fails.

Gaspard checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Gaspard marginally fails.

Thesarin checks strength and medium wpn at hard. Thesarin fails.

Mia checks command and leadership at normal. Mia is successful.

Vashtalyn checks dexterity and sewing at hard. Vashtalyn is successful.

Tamsin checks command and leadership at hard. Tamsin is successful.

Celeste checks command and war at hard. Celeste is successful.

[MAGIC - burning one jade on defense and one on attack] The last of those green disks go flying up and Lisebet is just in the right headspace to create one more disk that sits between her and the suddenly incoming fireball. The disk holdes, the flames go around Lisebet, and she emerges barely singed -doesn't even lose her eyebrows. But she does drop to one knee at this point, working to keep herself going. This is a brutal fight. there are stone people right by her, and a giant and - . She catches sight of Quintin there, unconscious. "Get the wounded back, if we can," she calls out. It's the fight that is needed though, quite definitely. A breath, and then another. Lisebet gets to her feet again. Her hair is wet, bedraggled, and she's paler than usual. Though her eyes may never go back to blue again, at this rate. Flying things, there are too many flying things. Lisebet tries to take aim at one of the wyverns, sending green disks flying at them. "Not this time," she whispers, only to hear her own words echoing yet again.

[MAGIC (burned a dawnweave) - attack/Unwelcome Guest] As Sabella yells into the war-torn air, she moves with a performer's grace, nimbly avoiding projectiles sent her way. She can't help it, the rush of it all has her grinning at the horde. SHE IS THE PEOPLE'S PRINCESS! The peppiest of princesses, she of indomitable spirit, the best at boosting morale! And Azazel's ugly, sad, gross army ISN'T WELCOME in Bastion! "YOU SHOULD RUN! YOU WILL FIND NOTHING HERE FOR YOU!" She wheels around in time to send another wave of energy from her hands, the force knocking into the shards shambling close as she tears apart a ribbon - a gift, a bit of hope - that dissipates in her hands.

[MAGIC: OFFENSIVE - DAWNFIRE - Burned Dawnweave] Vashtalyn hears the cheers, and she closes her eyes a moment. She draws a deep breath, and then she opens her eyes, and then she floats a little off the ground, just a little levitation. She spreads her arms, and threads of glowing hope and inspiration surround her. She tilts her head back, praying to Jayus, praying to Inspiration. And she emanates an inspiring presence. She lowers her arms then, and a sweeping curtain of prismatic dawnfire, not unlike aurora borealis, sweeps toward the enemies, rather than a ball. She aims it for the giant.

Thesarin checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Botch! Thesarin fails completely.

Thesarin has suffered a permanent wound!

[MAGIC] Macda tries her alternate approach. Going limp in the hands of the ogre that grapples her, she begins to hum, a languid, dreamy melody that bespeaks lullabies and crackling fires. Blood seeps from the gap in her armor where a shard stabbed her, dying her battleskirt red. She looks up into the eyes of her attacker with implacable calm. Sweet and soothing, she sings to him, lulling he and the nearest enemies to her into delirium.

[MAGIC - Last Use of Thenody] With so many enemies about, it can be difficult to know where to focus. "Keep them off the walls!" Tamsin provides guidance to the skeletons, those that haven't been turned t stone or otherwise dismantled anyway. "Keep pushing those hooks off!" She turns her attention to one of the flying creatures, pointing her weapon at the Wyvern nearest her. Words tumble from her lips, in Draconic, and she starts with, "There once was a wyvern from Azazael," and ends with something truly unprincess-like.

Something is coming from the skies. Gaspard looks up for that brief moment as he swings his blade in a circle, keeping the beasts off of him a /little/, but otherwise, he's focused on defense. "Keep fighting lads! We've almost have the day!" He roars to the defenders. "Keep those bastards back where they belong, in the fucking dirt! Make them pay for every inch they try and claim!" His blade shines in the darkness, throwing himself at the enemy. "Have at you! HAHAHAHAH!"

[MAGIC - Maneuverability is Key] Celeste wipes her blade off on a dead commander's cloak. "HOLD THE LINE!" she calls out to the troops that have now taken a position at the heart of the enemy forces. "Make them pay!" She spots the Wyvern's and once more the portal of black smoke and eerie redness appears above her. Two tentacles burst from that other dimension and drag her away, out of this reality...

Celeste reappears right above a wyvern, sword striking in a downward motion as she tries to kill it in mid-flight, ready to teleport away before she smacks into the ground.

[MAGIC] The sight of the wyverns has Liara murmuring, "One might wish for griffins." It is but the scantest distraction on the part of the Princess of Bastion, and then she opts to actually do something about it. "Encircle them but do not close the distance!" she orders nearby soldiers. Once again, they do so, forming a ring of spears, and the order is well understood even in the chaos of battle. Liara then signals a company of archers to begin to shoot over their heads at the beasts.

She then looks out across the shard-filled fields beyond the city, and where the Rivens engage them. She turns towards another officer. "Assemble the horse in the gate plazas. Prepare them to sally."

[MAGIC: Not on My Lawn] She small and only one of thousands upon thousands standing at Bastion's walls, and thousands more when considering the hordes cultists and creatures alike. But somewhere in that chaos stands Mia Riven, soaked in sweat, caked in mud, beginning to be coated with gore. Her dark eyes lift to the walls of Bastion as the first giant begins to scale its walls. She drops to one knee, fingers curling, and scrapes them across the earth itself, digging deep gashes with her gloved hands. As she does, the ground under the giant's feet begins to crack and shaking, pulling at his feet, at his legs, as if to draw him down into the bowls of the earth.

There's a monstrous scream as the giant begins going down, the earth shaking in response, even as the Grayson forces rally around dealing with the wyverns. The shards seem to know that the battle is turning against them, and there's an increased intensity as they are scrambling up the bodies of the fallen to get into Bastion now, that they know they need to win -now- or the fight is lost. A handful of beholders are trying to sweep the lines, and thousands upon thousands of arrows are raining down, the shards not seeming to care if it hits friend or foe.

((OOC: Victory Points. 267, doing luck checks, let me know if you're using magic.))

Apostate has called for a check of luck at normal.
Critical Success! Celeste is spectacularly successful.
TIE: Sabella is successful. Tamsin is successful.
TIE: Liara is successful. Gaspard is successful.
TIE: Vashtalyn is successful. Thesarin is successful.
Smile is marginally successful.
TIE: Mia marginally fails. Macda marginally fails.
Gunther marginally fails.
TIE: Lisebet fails. Kalakh fails.
Quintin fails.

[Magic-Alaricite] And as the giant falls into the earth, the blazing form of Thesarin leaps onto its shoulder, sword and axe acting as hooks to pull himself up onto its face, and driving the blade down to the hilt into the giant's eye socket while its massive hands scramble to grab ahold of him. One of Thesarin's feet slip and his thigh is between the thing's teeth as the whole mess of Prodigal and giant and flaming hair crash down to the ground together.
It's quiet for a moment before the mass of the creature shifts, and Thesarin shoves it away and stands, unsteadily, to his feet, face smeared with blood and war paint and tears, the ground around him starting to burst into flame as he laughs.

Lisebet checks charm and diplomacy at normal. Lisebet is successful.

Mia checks dexterity and dodge at easy. Mia is successful.

Gunther getting to his feet and catching his wind looks up after tossing his helmet down he can wipe the blood from his eyes and gets a sidelong look at what looks to him to be a dragon. And a look downward reveals a three-headed monster moving up. An effin' giant. The squire studies the scene for a moment and then turns and runs down the ramparts to where the giant is soon to peak. The squire takes a deep breath and unshoulders his pack, pulls out a length of rope, and ties a rope around a pillar on the rampart with a secure knot from years of practice. He offers a prayer and a bit of mental thanks to the knights of Solace who made these last golden years for him fruitful. The little man watches as the giant tumbles below and he makes a run for the whip-like tail of the flying beast. This he wrestles and manages to tie the rope around, taking injuries in the process and cuts as he gets the beast's attentions, then with all his might Gunther takes a leap and grabs the wing of the beast and seeks to tug it off the wall with him. Both winged beast and Gunther go end-over-end of the wall for an impact and likely demise should the squire not hold onto the beast once the rope goes tight and they hit the wall.

Gunther checks dexterity and dodge at easy. Gunther is successful.

It's going down! The wyvern Celeste stabbed in the spine is falling from the sky and the blonde rides it down toward the castle wall it's headed for. With arrows flying, something must be done. She leaps from the wyvern at the last second and dives toward Lisebet, attempting to roll the Duchess under the upraised shields of some nearby soldiers before the arrows can rain down.

They are buckling. They are fighting with suicidal intensity at the front, but some of the shards near the back seem to be hesitating. Pausing. The incoming fire is still heavy, but a rain rather than a torrent. Most of the more mindless beasts are charging ahead, just trying to cause as much damage as they possibly can, but there's the rarest of currency spreading through the Grayson lines- hope. It feels victory is within their grasp, and the Grayson soldiers redouble their efforts due to it. The cavalry is forming ranks, and ready to ride.

((OOC: Round 5. Victory Points 267. This is the final round, characters -can- play it safe and decline to roll if they choose.))

Liara checks command and leadership at hard. Liara is successful.

Mia checks command and leadership at normal. Mia is successful.

Lisebet checks charm and diplomacy at hard. Lisebet marginally fails.

Gaspard checks dexterity and ride at hard. Gaspard fails.

Tamsin checks command and leadership at hard. Tamsin is successful.

Sabella checks charm and propaganda at hard. Sabella is successful.

Celeste checks command and war at hard. Celeste fails.

Gunther checks strength and brawl at hard. Gunther is successful.

Vashtalyn checks dexterity and sewing at hard. Vashtalyn is successful.

Thesarin checks strength and medium wpn at hard. Thesarin is successful.

Vashtalyn checks mana at hard. Vashtalyn is successful.

Smile checked dexterity + sewing at difficulty 59, rolling 35 higher.

Beholder beams and arrows, oh my! Tamsin looks around the battlefield and sees Macda in trouble. She reaches a hand out to her relative. "Macda!" A few more syllables follow and Tamsin wreathes the other princess in a cacoon of black energy that fades away and leaves Macda ethereal and able to, temporarily, pass through solid objects without harm. Like arrows. Several skeletons have taken it upon themselves to shield Tamsin, and now they're riddled with arrows, but at least she isn't.

"Get down there and let's mop up those stragglers!" Tamsin sends the skeletons down to the base of the wall, using the ropes and ladders of the shards that haven't been completely swept. "Take up arms!" And the skeletons pick up fallen swords and the like and start repelling down, ready to fight to the last bone.

Gaspard checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Gaspard is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Gaspard does not take a permanent wound.

Gaspard checks 'unconsciousness save' at normal. Botch! Gaspard fails badly.

Gaspard is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Celeste checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Celeste fails.

Celeste has suffered a serious wound!

Celeste checks 'unconsciousness save' at hard. Botch! Celeste fails completely.

Celeste is incapacitated and falls unconscious.

Smile checked dexterity + sewing at difficulty 59, rolling 25 higher.

[Magic: burn 2 jade] Lisebet gets caught by Celeste, rolled under the shields and saved from the rain of arrows. Oof. Out of breath for a momnet, it takes her a bit to realize she's right next to the unconscious Quintin, just as more trouble is headed his way. She goes down to one knee, hands raising up as she again says, "Not this time." A shield atop Quintin forms, that bright glowing green, defending him from whatever might fall his way.

That done, she gets to her feet, wobbling a bit. This is harder than she even thought possible, but she's determined to keep trying. She stares at the armies, and this time, she tries something a bit different. One wyvern is targetted, with "YOu never really liked the giants anyway, did you?" It's just a little nudge, really. after all, why would those creeps like each other?

[MAGIC: DEFENSIVE - Threads of Hope] Vashtalyn watches in quiet serenity as the giant begins to fall, and the horde of monsters seem to intensify their attack briefly, before they start to falter. She has yet to lose her focus, or her hope. Her feet touch the ground again gracefully. She lifts her arm with her sewing needle again and weaves magical threads in the air, her arms moving much like a dancer's gestures. Then she does turn it into a dance, turning gracefully to fling her shield, Threads of Hope, around as many as she can, Inspiring as many as she can. The shield reflects the hope in the little ribbons of Dawnweave, and it spreads to all those who wear it.

[MAGIC (burned another dragonweep) - attack/Unwelcome Guest] It's all a wonder, for all the trepidation Sabella had before the battle, for as much as this princess is NOT a soldier, she moves through it as if the battle is the stage and she the main character within the play - she's not, but damn if this isn't kind of heroic! The next several shards that make their way toward her get another blast of the blunt force from her hands, pressing them into their own line and rending them on their own blades. "I SAID: YOU ARE UNWELCOME IN BASTION! FLEE TO YOUR MASTER AND KNOW WE WILL NOT FALL TO YOU!"

[Magic, Alaricite] And as suicidal intent comes, Thesarin is there to meet it. He stands unsteadily, he's bleeding with every step and every breath, but if he cares he doesn't show it. Every step shatters bones, staves in ribs, and cleaves meat from bones; one hand grasps something that might have been human by the face, and it begins to burn. Thesarin stands.

[MAGIC (Fail) - Maneuverability] Celeste stands up and looks around at the retreating soldiers. "Through the gate! Push them back!" she calls to her soldiers. She turns back and starts to open another tentacle portal when a beholder that had been waiting behind one of the nearby towers floats around and blasts her full in the chest with one of its beams. Celeste flies back and slams into a nearby watch tower, thudding against the stone and falling unconscious, blood oozing out of one corner of her mouth, her sword fallen nearby.

Gaspard fights hard. He really does.

With a laugh, he leaps atop one of the beholders, his blade stabbing deep into it's skull as he laughs. "Die, bastard!" Gaspard continues to laugh like a madman as his blade punctures flesh, though the flailing of the beast sends Gaspard flailing off to the side as it shirekds it's death cry, his body bouncing off of the ground and falling unconscious in a bloody heap. He's not moving, but slow rises and falls of his chest suggest he's still alive, even if those breaths are ragged.

[MAGIC: Get Off My Lawn] The sight of Thesarin toppling under the giant's weight is enough not to give Mia pause but to stop her in her dead in her tracks, her breath caught in her throat, until she catches sight of that first hint of movement, that first tongue of flame, his roaring and bloodied face. It triggers something in her that's beyond relief; the tongues of flames surrounding him triggering something in her -- the thought of the Twainfort being set to light, perhaps -- that's far closer to unbridled rage. Her voice catches on the wind, carries, as she lifts it to a volume that borders just at the edge of reason, drowned out as it ought to be, as it perhaps is, among the battlefield din. "WE GIVE NO GROUND!" Her call to the Twainfort's banners. "WE WILL NOT YIELD!" Her call to the elven people. "ARVUM WILL NEVER FALL!" Once more, the earth begins to tremble under her feet, the ripples and the tremors of it moving outwards, towards Bastion as men and elves alike surge toward's Bastion's walls together.

[MAGIC - used a dragonweep] Liara lifts her chin as she gazes across the field, taking in the sight of the wavering shards farther out. The threads of hope spun by Vashtalyn have Liara smiling faintly amid it all. Then, Liara finally takes her leave of the section of the citadel wall that she had chosen to stand upon, and descends, now progressing towards the assembled cavalry. On the way, she crushes her hand about a dragonweep that was about her person - she is so swathed in alaricite and steelsilk that she could have any amount of things about her person.

"Drive them from the field before they can regroup. Ensure they cannot bring further harm to our people. Make safe our families. The Compact endures." She calls up then to an officer at the gatehouse. "Open the gates!" /Attacking/ is probably the last thing on many people's minds, and yet.

There's a rattle of harnesses and a sudden thunder of hooves as the knights then sally out onto the field.

There is a loss of air from his lungs as beast and Gunther twist and turn down and then suddenly /SLAM/ against the wall. Gunther manages to punch his fist through a leathery wing of the wyvern. And it's here it rips down the length that the man hangs by that bent arm at the elbow while the beast writhes hanging from the rope by its tail. Gunther doesn't fall by the grace of the Gods. Not many can see this moment. The moment where the little man in borrowed armor hangs from the wall and starts brutally kicking the head of a wyvern with his booted foot until it crunches and caves and then goes limp in death. Gunther stares down the rest of the drop. It's a long way down where the forces of evil exist. But not too far down. Gunther climb's down the wyvern corpse and drops the rest of the way down where he disappears fully like he jumped into a ball pit. Except this isn't a ball pit it's a pile of corpses and soon the little man emerges, wounded, but he alone starts taking fight still. Swinging his metal-clad fists, kicking the head in of a wounded creature still with fight left in it, "Holy shite! Sorry for the cuss but Sally I just survived that! Oh, how I wish you saws that Sally! I don't know how you --" And that's when an arrow finds his arm. And Gunther stops talking, the little man grabs the nearest beast and starts pummeling it down at the base of the walls to Bastion. Back to work. The oldest squire will be found later there down around a bunch of corpses of fist and foot battered beasts and creatures. No one can find the killing blow. At some point the squire's heart gave out of him and he sat down and passed. In his hand he held a bloody note that started, 'My Sally girl..' and the rest was ruined beyond ability to read. But he fought until he couldn't anymore. That much was known about the few who came to know Gunther. He died with a smile on his face, knowing in the end he did good, and with his girl on his mind as he breathed his last.

And they break. A little at first, and then in a tide. The shards turn and flee, and even ogres, minotaurs, ettins and other beasts are in a mad dash to flee. They are run down and they are hammered, and thousands upon thousands of them are cut down.

There's cheers all around in Bastion. There's far, far too much Grayson dead. It's a painful victory. But far better than it could have been, thanks to the heroes that House Grayson assembled under its banner.

Bastion was lost once. When it fell, the heart of many of the Crownlands fell with it. Grayson has been associated with the Compact since its founding, and while it has faltered many times during its history, losing its home was a hard loss to swallow. But it was rebuilt. And then the legions of Azazel began to sweep during the Crownlands, evacuations commenced, and tens of thousands of shav'arvani and citizens of the Compact alike fled towards Arx. Most had little hope of making it, as the legions marched inexorably on.

But the rebuilt Bastion stood in its path.

House Grayson decided to make a stand. It was one of the largest hosts they ever assembled, and the price was bitterly paid, but Azazel's legions were bloodied against the walls, driven back and routed. No doubt they will reassemble, and continue their march towards Arx. No doubt the forces will be bitter from the loss, and hungry to pay it back in blood.

But for the refugees seeking safety in Arx, it means everything. They survive. And while most of the Compact has looked at Grayson's house words in askance, more than a few feel it in their bones after that victory.

None Greater.

Quintin wakes up.

Celeste wakes up.

Gaspard wakes up.


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Bastion was lost once. When it fell, the heart of many of the Crownlands fell with it. Grayson has been associated with the Compact since its founding, and while it has faltered many times during its history, losing its home was a hard loss to swallow. But it was rebuilt. And then the legions of Azazel began to sweep during the Crownlands, evacuations commenced, and tens of thousands of shav'arvani and citizens of the Compact alike fled towards Arx. Most had little hope of making it, as the legions marched inexorably on.

But the rebuilt Bastion stood in its path.

House Grayson decided to make a stand. It was one of the largest hosts they ever assembled, and the price was bitterly paid, but Azazel's legions were bloodied against the walls, driven back and routed. No doubt they will reassemble, and continue their march towards Arx. No doubt the forces will be bitter from the loss, and hungry to pay it back in blood.

But for the refugees seeking safety in Arx, it means everything. They survive. And while most of the Compact has looked at Grayson's house words in askance, more than a few feel it in their bones after that victory.

None Greater.
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