DM Note: Given the sudden loss, mid-encounter, of all characters able to combat Fae Mhor Darkness, I ruled that Méabh would have cast her Light on an object as discussed before leaving...| DM Note: Given the sudden loss, mid-encounter, of all characters able to combat Fae Mhor Darkness, I ruled that Méabh would have cast her Light on an object as discussed before leaving... |
Gorfang and Eloy cautiously entered the kitchen. Stacked in one corner was a heap of small wooden boxes with air-holes in. Unlike the rest of the room, these were clean and clear of dust. As he walked across to them, Gorfang could see through the doorway to his right. There were only splinters of the door left, and the room beyond was filled with webs. Picking up a box, Gorfang shook it violently, but the expected sounds of a spider occupant were absent; it seemed to be empty. Rather disappointed, he turned away; what defences they had against Darkness had a limited lifespan. Spiders could wait until later. With an eye to that later, Eloy checked and prepared his stock of alchemists' fire flasks.
Turning back, the pair headed for the stables. Shamlakh had told Gorfang that there weren't any horses in it the previous day; perhaps because of that, they didn't pause as they went through the door. It was difficult to tell who was the most surprised, then; Eloy and Gorfang, or the four male Fae Mhor house troops loading boxes into a covered cart in the stables.
Eloy recovered first and sent three arrows from Varlan streaking across to strike the nearest dark elf. Although the arrows thumped home into his arm, the expected flare of cold energy flickered and died as the Fae Mhor's magic resistance overcame it. Eloy jinked sideways to blur his position should darkness fall.
 DM Note: A critical hit for 132 points of damage in the head, which at 14th level is going it some! |
Gorfang dropped the small rock bearing Méabh's Light spell out of the small bag it was in and launched himself into a flat charge at the elf opposite him - the only one who had noticed them open the door initially. Cornering his startled target against the wagon he unleashed a terrifying blow. The unfortunate Fae Mhor warrior's head utterly disintegrated, spraying fragments of bone, brain and blood over everything and leaving nothing solid above the neck. The body crumpled and Gorfang span, snarling - just as Darkness fell.
The Light spell, boosted by Méabh's Khabran knowledge, restored a muddy brown illumination to the stables, just enough to see by. Two of the dark elves had pistol crossbows ready, and fired bolts at both Gorfang and Eloy without effect, while the one next to Gorfang lunged at him with a rapier which skated across the orc's armour. Gorfang riposted, taking the warrior's legs from under him before shearing his khopesh into his guts to kill him. Across the stable, Eloy dropped his bow, ran forward and attacked with Bereloth. The poor light affected his aim, however, and his swing missed most spectacularly.
Behind him, Gorfang efficently hacked down the one Eloy had shot before pursuing the last into the other half of the stables and cutting him down as well. When he returned he discovered that the human had finally slain his foe and the battle was over. 
The second section of stables contained four horses, corralled in the stalls. All were absolutely terrified, to an extent Gorfang was more used to seeing in horses spooked by Shamlakh. They looked like half-decent nags though, and the pair made a mental note to take them along when leaving. Picking up the light-rock and rebagging it, they returned to the house and made for the stairs.
The stairs looked like a trap; when Eloy offered to go first, Gorfang had no objections, and the human climbed quietly up the flight and peered around the top. A corridor lined in doors doubled back past the stairhead, and part-way down this were two overturned tables set up as barricades. As he moved his head around to get a better view, Eloy was spotted; he heard the words of a spell snapped out in an aggressive female voice speaking the dark elvish tongue; "Stay where you are!" A deadly paralysis began to flow over him, but he focussed his willpower and threw the effect off. Thinking quickly, though, he froze in place to mimic the effects of a failed Hold Person spell. At the same time, he whispered in the faintest of voices down to Gorfang; "Two behind tables, 30' down landing". He had his own problems, though. A second spell was cast, and amid a flare of light a Summon Monster spell dropped 13 fist-sized spiders onto the floor halfway between the two groups. These set off single-mindedly towards the supposedly paralysed Eloy.
The 
orc did his best to ascend the stairs quietly; but he just wasn't built for stealth. A step creaked slightly, and Eloy heard a sharp whisper from above: "There's one on the stairs!" Gorfang abandoned stealth and sprinted up the stairs, cannoned off the landing wall and hurtled down the upstairs hall towards the barricade. Partway down the hall, a crunch under his boot reduced Eloy's problem to twelve spiders. Then he reached the barrier and confronted the occupants.
To his right, an obviously female Fae Mhor was readying a mace and a dagger to engage him, active magic shimmering around them and her armour, a black adder coiling on her shoulder. Next to her, a skinny male dark elf in light padded armour was moving his hands in the beginnings of a spell. Perhaps he'd picked the wrong target to start with... too late now. He attacked the priestess. A blurred flurry of strikes and parries followed, leaving the woman bleeding in several places but still fighting.
At that instant, both Eloy and the male Fae Mhor vanished. While the dark elf had simply gone invisible, Eloy had invoked Nullity, and everyone immediately forgot that he existed. Not that Gorfang noticed much; he wasn't thinking about Eloy much at that point - he was concentrating on his opponent. The spiders, though, broke off their headlong rush at the human and milled around the hallway in confusion. Eloy stepped carefully through them and headed up the hall to get behind the priestess in perfect safety.
The priestess had clearly miscalculated in resorting to physical combat instead of magic against Gorfang, and it was obvious she knew this. Her attacks weren't striking home, and his swords were dealing wound after wound. Something else had struck her from behind, too, and she'd no idea what that was. There was only one intruder after all. Miatrem the assassin was missing - probably abandoned her, weak male that he was! She began to panic. Desperately, she readied the Deeper Darkness spell to cover her escape - but too late. The black sword she was seeking sank into her belly, and she doubled over and sank to the floor, gasping curses and invocations to Lolth.
An invisible hand touched Gorfang's shoulder, and he felt venom run into his veins. Shaking the effects off with a snarl, he lashed out into space but connected with nothing. Suddenly, three arrows slashed across the hall, widely spaced as if to try and strike an invisible target and - he noticed - carefully aimed away from his location. It was almost as if he had allies somewhere, though he and the invisible Fae Mhor were the only creatures here. Suddenly, an invisible sword engaged the Veldrin. The unexpectedness of this caught him off-guard, and a deft flick by his unseen opponent sent the black sword skittering down the hall. He struck back with the khopesh, and was rewarded by a flinching scream of pain as it connected. He realized that his opponent's next move would be to go for the felled weapon, and slashed along that line, connecting again, raising another scream. Not used to being wounded, he thought contemptuously.
The black sword Veldrin Sk'aal lifted from the floor, as if by itself. Its' outlines seemed to blur as the Invisibility began to include it with the spell effect. For that instant, though, Gorfang and Eloy knew exactly where the holder was. Eloy couldn't get a clear shot, and his arrows smacked into the wooden walls. Gorfang, however, struck home straight and true and felt his blade bite.
The Fae Mhor came into sight again. Still gripping the weapon, he turned by pure force of will and made a supreme effort to head for the window at the end of the corridor. But his life was draining from him through the terrible wound the orc had inflicted. Slowly, he crumpled forwards, and the sword fell from his grip. With the last of his strength, he stretched out and got his fingertips onto the hilt. The ghost of a smile crossed his dying face, and then his eyes fixed and his head dropped to the boards.
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