Targos

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Dec 29, 2018 4:19 pm
Vincent's voice enters Al's mind. "That didn't go the way I had hoped. And I fear I may have made done something wrong by mentioning your unwanted title. Forgive me."

With those words Vincent joins Al's mad charge firing as he goes.
Last edited December 29, 2018 4:22 pm

Rolls

Longbow vs popo - (1d20+10, 1d20+10)

1d20+10 : (12) + 10 = 22

1d20+10 : (9) + 10 = 19

Dec 29, 2018 4:48 pm
For a moment the whole world freezes in Ugs mind. Nessa’s killer was here! The hidden thumping in his chest pushes at every fiber to attack the murderer, but his inner barbarian screams he isn’t ready yet. The battle is won almost instantly, and not by the barbarian. A tortured howl rips the air as Ug charges, Ras’ heeling giving him new found energy. Bearing fangs and claws, Ugs body contorts into a bestial form as he grasps a new weapon in his icy grip. The axe turns a deep icy blue as ice cruststhe edges in jagged spikes. With more on his side than he has had before Ug swings.

And fails.

Again.
Last edited December 29, 2018 6:01 pm

Rolls

Attack 1 - (1d20+6)

(12) + 6 = 18

Attack 1 adv - (1d20+6)

(5) + 6 = 11

Attack 2 - (1d20+6)

(4) + 6 = 10

Attack 2 adv - (1d20+6)

(12) + 6 = 18

Attack 3 - (1d20+6)

(8) + 6 = 14

Attack 3 adv - (1d20+6)

(4) + 6 = 10

Dec 29, 2018 4:48 pm
"Alalla! Vincent!" Zenithral yells, aim still on the orogs near the palisade. "Look at yourselves! He killed Nessa and nearly destroyed Ug as well, barely lifting a finger!" He never saw the experience, but he imagined it didn't go well. "We can't defeat him, especially not in this state! 'Revered Brother'" Zenithral says. His tone is not mockery, simply disdain. "You speak of deals. Let us be open with each other. What offer have you made to Alalla...and Erevain?"

Rolls

Persuasion (DON'T KILL YOURSELVES) - (1d20+7)

(17) + 7 = 24

Dec 29, 2018 5:45 pm
Poquelin doesn't bat an eye as the party attacks. Ug's magic axe smashes into the back of his head, but for some reason it is the barbarian who is sent reeling. He pays the goliath no further heed. When Alalla strikes, the devil catches the blade in his palms and steals its flame. He shoves Alalla away easily and holds the fire openly in his palms. It doesn't seem to burn him at all. The crimson light that the fire reflects in his eyes seems magnified a hundredfold, however.

One of Vincent's arrows grazes his cheek, leaving a cut of steaming blood. The wound closes a moment later, leaving not even a scar.

Poquelin opens his mouth, but then listens intently as Zenithral speaks. "I speak not of deals, but of salvation." He gestures to the confused militia, to the ruined gates, and to the army beyond. "Your petty squabbles on this plane pale beside the true threat to everything in existence. Look upon your leader!" He points to Alalla. "You see the taint in her eyes, and hear it in her snarl, yes? She has seen the truth! And it has driven her mad."

Poquelin steps up to Alalla, then. From the heavy crunch of ice under his sandals, the party is reminded again that the devil is much heavier than he appears in his human form. "Tell them what you saw, Alalla. Tell them the truth of the Abyss and its spawn, the demons who would rend this world and see it nothing but a smoking crater!"
Poquelin casts Suggestion on Alalla.
[ +- ] Suggestion
As Alalla answers, Poquelin's form begins to writhe as his spell of transmutation fades.

Rolls

Alalla wisdom saving throw DC 22 (disadv) - (1d20-2, 1d20-2)

1d20-2 : (6) - 2 = 4

1d20-2 : (9) - 2 = 7

Dec 29, 2018 7:38 pm
Alalla falls to her knees. "There are so many," she begins. She shudders under the memories she had tried to repress. "More than the number of snowflakes in the entire North. Maybe more than all the snowflakes that have ever been. And all they want is blood. It's like... it's like they need it. It's all they are.

The devils fight back, but I've seen the demon's leaders. They... They're..."
Alalla tries to describe the demon lords, and the mounting horror stills her tongue. "Abominations beyond imagining. How do you fight something like that?" She grips her head as her eyes well with tears. "All the devils can accomplish is a stalemate."

The silence stretches as Alalla shakes. Finally she raises her head. "And thank the gods for it. I'd rather be dead than see the world devils would make."
Last edited December 29, 2018 7:43 pm
Dec 29, 2018 9:59 pm
"The gods?" Poquelin sneers. The words turn into a resonant growl as his form swells and his skin darkens to a charred red. There is something very wrong with his face. "You thank the gods? What have the gods done for you?"

He pulls his robe over his head, revealing a muscled torso that bulges strangely, as though the bones there don't fit properly beneath the reddened skin.

And he keeps growing. Seven feet. Eight feet. A serrated tail whips about him, cracking the air. Nine feet. Ten feet. Wings burst from his back and spread wide, ridges of hard bone connected by dark leather folds.

Eleven feet.

Twelve feet.

Having reached its full height, Poquelin's form continues to broaden as his shoulders and limbs expand with corded muscle. Horns split his brow and face, and cracks appear in his skin, each one glowing like lava through black stone.
Dec 29, 2018 10:00 pm
When the transformation is complete, Poquelin - Belhifet - stands there in awful majesty. He looks much like the pit fiends that Alalla saw during her time at the River Styx, but crested with a terrible nobility. And those cracks... there is power within this creature beyond even those great devils.

Still... Alalla finds herself sure that even this archdevil before her prove a poor match for Demogorgon, the Prince of Demons. Or perhaps even Zariel, for that matter.

"The gods turn their backs on the truth of the Tanar'ri threat. But we, the Baatezu, rise to meet it stroke for stroke. Blood for blood. Life for life." His lipless grin bares fangs moist with thick saliva. "The gods... sit back and do nothing. But I will always act for the good of the multiverse."

Belhifet opens a clawed hand to reveal a hot fire - the same flame stolen from Alalla's sword. He casts it back toward the palisade gate, where it blossoms into a raging furnace that runs the length of the entire wooden wall. Twenty feet high the flames roar, fueled and held by magic mastered in the Nine Hells.

There is no sign of the six orogs who stood there moments ago.

Belhifet addresses everyone present, and everywhere he turns Targos soldiers shy back in fear. "When these flames die, your wall will be nothing but ash. What do you wish to see on the other side? Murderous raiders intent on settling a long-forgotten debt forged by a deity of chaos, or fresh recruits ready to join the only bastion standing between you and the madness your leader speaks of?"

The archdevil looks down upon Alalla. "I have tried to be reasonable, but even my patience runs thin. This is the last time I make this offer: Gather the orcs and bring them to Kelvin's Cairn ready to follow you to the Hells and back, and I will save us all."

His baleful gaze falls on each of the companions. "Thus far your leader has failed to heed any counsel I give her. Be sure she does not make the wrong decision, yes?"

The wall of flames separating Targos from the monstrous horde begins to lower - an obvious hint that the clock is ticking.
Dec 29, 2018 11:50 pm
Zenithral stumbles back, startled at the transformation. With wide eyes, he finally realizes this is much bigger than taking over the Icewind Dale. He thinks of Mylandra and Ilmater when the devil mentions the gods. Is this one of the big choices Mylandra spoke of? One which she couldn't help him answer?

Why did the devil need Alalla to lead the orcs into the Hells? He obviously had enough power to set them off to attack wherever he pleased, just as he had done here. Regardless, bloodshed was life for the orcs...as ironic as that sounded. If they had the option to send them to face an innumerable threat instead of slaughtering the innocent people of this land, why not? Could a few hundred orcs really tip the scales for the devils? It seemed unlikely, but why would he be trying to "recruit" them otherwise? And why the ogres and giants and their attacks on the ten towns? It didn't make any sense...

Zenithral tries to take in all the details he knows to try to answer his lingering questions...

Rolls

Investigation (What am I missing...) - (1d20+7)

(20) + 7 = 27

Dec 30, 2018 2:31 am
Zenithral is quite sure of one thing: a few hundred orcs could not possibly make a difference in a war that has been spanning millennia. Whatever Poquelin is planning, it has to involve more than just a finite number of orcs...

Zenithral's gaze falls upon Poquelin's fallen garment, the robe with writing that has always nagged at him as though he should be able to make sense of it. In that moment, considering the robe and its script, something slides into place in Zenithral's mind.

The writing is a parody of Celestial, detailing a solemn and scathing condemnation of the gods - and of Ilmater in particular. That a supposed priest of Ilmater would wear such a shocking and blasphemous garment assaults Zenithral's sensibilities. He would have to study it to learn all of its nuances, but in a general sense he understands that it is an eloquent treatise written by a brilliant mind. Surely someone capable of creating a document such as this would also be capable of intricate and careful plans.

The orcs and their allies, the other happenings in the North... it is entirely possible that the companions have mired themselves into not one of this archdevil's machinations, but several.

As for the orcs themselves... from the writing and Belhifet's own words, the archdevil seems solely concerned with things on a grand, cosmic scale. What if he seeks to obtain the souls of all orcs? Whatever method he has supposedly devised to free Alalla from Gruumsh's grasp, could it possibly be executed for the orc race as a whole? If so... how many souls would that bring to the devils' banner? Could that possibly make a difference in the Blood War enough to tip the scales? At the very least, it would be a slap in the face to one of the gods. At most... it could very well mean that Belhifet would stop at nothing to see it done.

As for Zenithral's own part to play, it simply cannot be coincidence that this pretender chose to disguise himself as a priest of Ilmater - Zenithral's own deity. And his family... His parents, mired in the schemes of this archdevil. Mona and Lance, his half-siblings, sired by this creature? His visions...

Staring up at Belhifet once more, Zenithral feels a something heavy settle into his gut. Its weight is familiar, and brings with it a host of other feelings and memories. In the past it has given him purpose, but also pain. It has caused him to step up and lead, but also at other times to flee in shame.

It is the weight of responsibility.

Somehow, Zenithral knows that his fate is entwined with this devil's. Whatever choice or choices Mylandra has been grooming him for, they have something to do with Belhifet, the Blood War, and Ilmater.
Dec 30, 2018 3:01 am
Ugs left on his knees after reeling from his failed attack. He lets out a frustrated scream and feels the weight of the night bearing down on his shoulders. "you always face friends when we are weakest." he growls loud enough for the devil to hear. "Is that why you need Al and friends help, because you are too coward to fight with honor?" Ug spits a mouthful of icy blue blood at the devils feet.
Last edited December 30, 2018 3:04 am
Dec 30, 2018 3:13 am
Belhifet turns to look at Ug. For all of his muscle and bulk, the archdevil moves with a rippling grace. His voice rumbles out in Giant. "How much bravery does it take to swing a weapon, Ug? If you wish to see true courage, Alalla knows that I can send you to a place where you can watch the bravest souls in the multiverse face unspeakable threats. Do you desire to go there, mountainborn?" His fiery eyes dare Ug to say yes.
Dec 30, 2018 3:28 am
Ug raises tired eyebrows as he hears the language of the giants. Ug responds grimly in his native tongue, Ug only desires three things. To save my mother, to protect my friends, and to someday defeat you. If you help Ug with the first two now, Ug promises to wait to finish the third..
Last edited December 30, 2018 3:46 am
Dec 30, 2018 6:36 am
As she kneels amongst the dead in the bloody snow and mud, Alalla recalls the message Vincent had sent to her during her rage.

To be called the daughter of a deity who is not a father, but a slavemaster, feels like a slap in the face. Alalla's mental message comes through as a snarl. To be revered because of and used for it despite my efforts to shun it infuriates me. But I do forgive you. You only spoke truth. Truth it's time to stop running from. Vincent sees Alalla slowly pull a handaxe from her belt. I do belong to Gruumsh, and all my attempts to escape him have ended in death and suffering. This is all my fault. Now all I can do is keep myself from Belhifet's grasp. The blade of her axe is not facing outward like it should be, but inward, toward her own flesh.
Last edited December 30, 2018 7:25 am
Dec 30, 2018 7:30 am
"The safety of your mother..." Belhifet breathes in as though savoring the taste of the bargain. "That can be arranged, yes? But a hollow threat is nothing to offer. Is she worth so little to you?"

The flames along the palisade wall creep lower.
Dec 30, 2018 1:24 pm
"so little!? Empty threat?! Ug rises to his feet gripping his axe the more tightly. ."You forget so quickly our last fight?! I was inches from death then and still almost killed you!"

Ug uses intimidating presence, he’ll probably pass it easily but still worth a shot)
Dec 30, 2018 3:03 pm
Belhifet seems not at all intimidated by Ug's antics. "I still hear no real offer. Agreements made with devils are binding things, Ug. With no contract, there is no guarantee of safety. Think on this, yes?"

Belhifet is immune to fear.

Belhifet's eyes fall upon Alalla as the flames continue to fall. "Your time has nearly ended, Alalla."
Dec 30, 2018 4:03 pm
As the devil turns his attention to Al, so does Ug. Deals were binding. He notices for the first time the strain in her eyes, the axe in her hands. How long has she been carrying this weight? How long has she been subject to gruumsh? Much Too long. But what could Ug do? Surrounded by the dead, the scared, the dying, The battle needed a distraction, and Al needed saving. Deals are binding. Ug had no magic, and it probably wouldn’t work, but In moments like this, it is the only thing that comes solidly to Ugs mind.

"UG CHALLENGES THE DAUGHTER IF GRUUMSH!!! Ug bellows for all to hear. UG CHALLENGES FOR THE POWER OF ORC ARMIES AND TO TAKE AWAY HER RIGHT TO GRUUMSH. ORCS WILL FIND NEW CHIEF TONIGHT!!

FIGHT ME DAUGHTER OF GRUUMSH!!
he then says softer Ug is sorry al has carried this burden alone
Last edited December 30, 2018 5:10 pm
Dec 30, 2018 11:13 pm
"I know." Alalla murmurs in response to Poquelin.

Ug's shout surprises her. She turns a wearied gaze to the Goliath. "You're a good friend, Ug, but what would you have carried? You can't protect everyone. It's not your fault. It just is. You can't save people from themselves."

A determined glint, albeit a bit crazed, enters her eyes. "Your boss is very angry, Bellyfat." She turns back to the devil. "Zariel is not pleased at all that you are here 'playing games' and shirking your duty while she and your fellows keep the demons at bay. Even so, she seemed to trust that you could bring the orcs to heel. A small comfort to her, but she let me return here. How does it feel to fail? How will it be for you to return to her empty handed?"

I should have kissed my father before I left. At least I kissed my husband.

Alalla moves to draw the axe across her throat.
Dec 30, 2018 11:16 pm
A hand, slim but firm, grabs Alalla's arm and holds it fast. Erevain kneels in the snow beside her. Through his touch she can feel the residual magic that hastened his journey to the palisade, a vibrant hum that gradually dissipates. The elf's eyes are red with tears, but he somehow still manages a shaky smile for his wife. "No, sharuhk. Not this way."
OOC:
He's currently wrestling Alalla's arm with the handaxe. Al can relinquish, fight back, reach for a different weapon with her other hand, or something else.

Rolls

Erevain athletics check (adv from Zephyr Strike) - (1d20+9, 1d20+9)

1d20+9 : (14) + 9 = 23

1d20+9 : (5) + 9 = 14

Al contested athletics - (1d20+6)

(5) + 6 = 11

Dec 30, 2018 11:21 pm
"It's the only way!" Alalla strains to free her arm, but Erevain is stronger than he looks, and she is tired. She should have stayed dead this morning. "It's the only way I can be sure I'm not being used for evil. I've tried everything else, and this is the result. This is the only way." She reaches for her second axe.
Last edited December 30, 2018 11:29 pm
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