Targos

Tonight's events will be told around many a table. The brave milita who stood their ground. The great heroes who fought and bled alongside them. The many, among friends and foes who stained the snow red with their spilt blood. But there was one soul lost for whom every eye will tear in every telling...

Despite the militia's reinforcements, the battleground quickly becomes a chaotic mess. With every defender busy fighting for his or her life, the gates still stand open to spew more enemies into Targos.

Working together, Alalla and Ug take down the orc chief. Ug deals the finishing blow, raising the large orc overhead and crushing his skull into ice with his bare hands. The rest of the company of orcs snarl and continue their fight (Al takes 14 damage), and the deed attracts the attention of the pestilence priests.

Eerily silent, the clerics of Yurtrus each raise a white-gloved hand toward Ug and blast him with sickening green rays that cause lesions and boils to appear upon his skin (Ug takes 63 poison damage and has disadvantage on attack rolls this next round). With horror, Ug remembers Guntor, the orc cook. Surely these priests could not turn him into a walking cesspool of disease like that poor soul? Like the new wave of orcs approaching...

The militia, currently outnumbering the nearest group of orcs, lay into their porcine enemies with spear and sword. Beyond them, Lord Ulbrec stands tall upon a pair of sturdy barrels, his plate armor almost seeming as a suit of fire in the torchlight. The remaining orc assassin swoops down on his winged mount, jagged sword aimed toward the mayor's back. An arrow glowing with arcane energy intercepts the assassin, striking with such force that the black-clad orc is hurled from his seat and into the crimson fabric of the pavilion beyond. As the structure collapses, those watching lose sight of the assassin's body, but Vincent's relieved breath indicates that the orc has indeed met its end.

High overhead, another boulder sails in to smash against the top of the archery tower. As debris falls among the combatants below, it seems as though Zenithral may be no more... but the archer emerges from the wreckage atop the tower with one hand held tight against his side, battered yet very much alive (Zen takes 29 damage).

A wave of healing pours out over the companions as Ras bolsters them with a spell. An orc warrior swings gleefully at the small gnome, then stares in disbelief as the wound he deals is immediately repaired (Ras takes 8 damage).

The new wave of orcs hits the militia line. Each of these hideous creatures bares no weapon besides its own foul hands, tearing at Targos' defenders with nails that carry a myriad of diseases. Arrows from Zenithral rain down from above, but it is not enough to turn aside these plagued monsters. Every wound opened on the orcs spurts rancid juice over their attackers. Before the heroes' eyes, infected militia soldiers succumb to the rot, falling to writhe in agony.

As each diseased orc is wounded, it begins to tremble violently, as if boiling from within. One pierced by Zenithral's arrows ruptures, exploding in a gooey mess that covers anyone nearby. More soldiers die, and more orcs begin that insidious trembling. With mounting horror, all those nearby understand that if the rest of these orcs detonate, there will be nothing left of the militia but a steaming mess. But all of the heroes are busy...

Another of the orcs pops, drenching those nearby in a wide arc. But some of the spray stops in midair, as if it has collided with an invisible wall. With a shudder and a gasp, Lady Elytharra appears in the midst of the fight. Her nightgown is stained with soot, dirt, blood, and slime, but even still the queenly woman's beauty shines true. She raises her slender hands and begins the casting of an intricate spell even as bloated enemies crowd about her.

From his vantage point upon the barrels, Ulbrec raises a hand and cries out. "My love, no!"

Elytharra finishes her casting, a powerful spell of fear that drives most of the twisted orcs around her to turn and flee back towards the gate. But not even the most powerful of wizards can hope to ensnare every enemy. A handful of orcs remain, too far lost in their trembling to even notice the magic about them.

Hands still raised, Elytharra continues her spell as long as she can, knowing that every moment she endures will save more lives. She manages one last glance back toward her husband. Tears fill her violet eyes even as the burn of poison in the air begins to devour her flesh...

Ulbrec leaps from the barrels and grabs a fallen spear, then throws himself at the orc marauders in his way. In his reckless abandon, he does little good.

Then it happens. A ripping series of wet pops sounds over the battlefield as each diseased orc erupts in a fountain of slime. The enchantress and those Targos soldiers nearest to her dissolve into a pool of muck.

Elytharra accomplishes her purpose, however. Most of the diseased orcs reach the gate before exploding, completely vaporizing the next wave of approaching enemies - along with one of the priests of Yurtrus, who was foolish enough to stand in their way.

For a single, awful moment, the defenders have a reprieve - though there are still some enemies within the walls.

Round 4 Player Phase!!!!

The orcs left within the walls after the grotesque explosion grip their weapons and spells with fierce growls as Targos' defenders close in. Knowing they are doomed now, they throw themselves into the battle with reckless abandon, determined to kill as many others as they can before death claims them.

After resistance, Ug takes 7 slashing damage and 21 poison damage. Ras takes 9 slashing damage. Militia takes 21 damage, killing another of the militia.

Within a few furious moments most of the orcs are dead, brought down by the companions and the militia. Ug's efforts on the tower are just enough tos send the structure crashing down upon the shattered gate, heavy beams of wood crashing into place to block further passage into Targos - for now.

From beyond the walls come angry, guttural shouts as the rest of the army is temporarily thwarted.

As the companions take a moment to discuss what to do next, it dawns on them that no more boulders have been flung over the walls since Ug toppled the tower.

The fallen archery tower shudders, then begins to rise. Enormous blue hands painted white by torchlight can be seen wrapped around the structure as a pair of frost giants begin to lift the end blocking the gate.

The militia moan at the sight of such strength, and a wicked chorus of war cries sounds from the army outside.

In moments the battle will begin again.