Lavanda-26

Olivia started mumbling something about food and I was not about to miss that cue, not again. That chore taken care of, I wanted to further document the day… but rather than confuse the subject I’m going to start a new entry.

The worn, muddy road under the shadowy curtain of rain clouds set the scene for the ambush today. The contingent of attackers gathered seemed much more reluctant to trade blows with us this day. Brom had dropped a cloud of fog on the battlefield, obscuring much of the attackers’ vision.

The blue haired elf foolishly called for our surrender during a lull in the fighting, but none of our company were inclined toward further discussions. They seemed displeased, launching a barrage of arrows, striking Brom more than once. Bold dashed through the smoke, slashing blindly for the blue haired woman. It seems his blind fighting is better than mine, for I heard her cry of pain as a blow connected.

The fingertalking dwarf appeared, longbow readied, though his aim was wide of me. However, following his shot, he spun his cloak around himself and disappeared from sight. A contingent of archers released a second barrage of arrows from farther down the road, with most missing Brom whose rage only grew by the arrow.

Urne appeared to have had enough of the archers trying to bring down Brom. Guiding Goat to assist, he extended magical protection over our dwarven friend. His concern for Olivia brought Goat to her side, giving her new vigor.

The blue haired elf guided her hand along her blade, imparting it with a glowing green energy. With a deft flick she sent the acid flying out from the fog, managing only to land a small bit on Brom, barely singing his skin.

Attempting to stimie the archers, I summoned a fog cloud of my own to block the remainder of the road.

Olivia’s wounds appeared healed, but markings appeared on her hands and around her eyes as she entreated the mercenaries to cease their fight. Holding her loaded crossbow level with the men, she showed she knows how to drive her point home.

Yet, that nimble fingered dwarf re-appeared, this time behind Olivia, burying a wicked looking knife into her. I was barely able to call out a warning in time for her to twist away, narrowly missing her kidney, but still taking it deep in her side. Olivia’s implied warning of a held crossbow did not deter one skirmisher who rushed towards her, only to fall several feet short with a bolt stuck in his chest.

Brom suffered another wound, this time a glancing blow from a dwarf’s axe. An elf emerged from the fog to sink an arrow into Urne, with the remaining fighters’ attacks easily avoided by our trained company.

Urne took a deep breath, and when he expelled it he brought forth a cone of charged energy catching two combatants, badly burning one and marking the other.

The blue haired woman, sensing Bold nearby in the fog, lashed with her scimitar and caused great swirls in the cloud but yielded no other effect. Bold could feel her futile swinging and, using the elven woman’s desperate grunting to pinpoint her, leveled a hard blow at head height. This elicited a pained grunt and a second thud as she steadied herself on the nearby cart.

Jumping toward one foe closing on Olivia, I landed one solid downward strike along his spine. Brom, emboldened by my success, rushed to Urne’s side to release some healing energy unto him. Blinking out of danger, Olivia reappeared in a safer location, letting another bolt fly with her crossbow steadied on a crate. Another bolt, another foe dropped… dead. Brom was splattered with the blood of the man as the tip of the bolt appeared through his throat.

The dwarf seemed to have had enough and sent a quick finger message to his team instructing them to withdraw.

Bold became a hammer wielding dervish, ending with a resounding thunk, dropping the blue haired elf in the fog cloud. Those of us outside the mists saw the obvious lessening of her lighting storm overhead.

As the finger talking dwarf tried to run, Brom and I gave chase. Brom shaped himself into a mastiff, as I took a deer form. A brief but fruitless escape attempt ended with the dwarf being herded back to the company. Walking resignedly back into ambush site under the watchful eye of Brom and myself, still in our respective animal shapes.

Appealing to our better nature, the dwarf requested to be allowed to aid the elf woman. Disarming him before allowing him near, he touched her tenderly, administering a potion of healing. Sitting with the two, Olivia engaged in a flurry of fingertalk for some time.

It seems that the dwarf, Umisdrear, and the elf are representatives of two groups interested in Goat. Umis is a member of the Forge Carvers, while she is a Mystarrian. They say that no magic or craftsperson from either of their orders have been able to imbue inorganic matter with magic of any kind, (much less autonomy, or “life”) for quite some time. There was some philosophical debate over what constitutes “life.” Regardless of semantics, they were quite persistent that they required access to Goat, and knowledge of his creation.

Brom recognized Umis’ name a bit, and surmised that this was likely nothing more than a test run for his enchanted gear. This Umis may harbor delusions of styling himself as some sort of protector of magical arms and armor, something called a Valorant. Unable to create their own marvels, Umis instead works to hoard relics of old.

Urne remained calm and collected through the whole conversation around Goat until the elf proposed monetized access to his friend. It is said that the most fearsome countenance comes forth from the calmest of sources. Nevermore will I lack an example for this truism. The anger was short lived, however, as his kind heart showed through and he sought some explanation for her lack of respect in the way she approached. Unable to provide sufficient reasoning, the decision was to leave them behind, disarmed and dejected.