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  #166  
Old 03-26-2011, 05:20 PM
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Wood he do it?!?
 
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Blood.... damn that is a lot too.Fola .... diabhal é go bhfuil go leor freisin.

Cahal's vision swam with a red-tint. Everything was either getting covered in blood or he was too far in the depths of anger to tell the difference. It didn't matter, as the last attack by the large opponent had done some serious damage. Coughing, the Fir Bhlog's weapon was spattered with the ruby drops that matched those cascading down his face and hip. The blood began to hit the ground in a methodical pattern at first, but began to course down quicker as his fury built, causing a small puddle to form at his feet.

Beyond words, comprehension, and sanity, the barbarian took his weapon and again put his strength into the effort. The spear plunged into the nine foot creature and Cahal was able to get a second wound to appear on it. The blood of both them began to mingle and the dirt beneath them began to take on a dark, muddy texture. If I drop he'e, so will dat foul crea'ure. Pulling his weapon out of the giant, he prepared for the next assault, his breathing becoming more shallow as blood was steadily lost. His vision became more blurred, but that wasn't going to stop a stubborn, determined brute from tearing his foe asunder. Blood continued to pour out of two wounds that he had taken, as well as his mouth. Things were indeed looking grim for the largest of the mighty Ar Leith.

 

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Last edited by Grogg Tree; 03-26-2011 at 05:22 PM.
  #167  
Old 03-28-2011, 09:32 AM
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Impartial as ever, the sun shines directly overhead, scintillating the sky with light. And beautiful as it is, it's making it damn hot on the ground. Each of you sweats beneath heavy Hibernian cloaks and kilts, struggling in armor designed for the cold and damp. So it is that, encumbered with a huge shield and several stones' weight in equipment, Seaghdh is unable to connect with the giant before him. Beside the fighter, Moirne spies Cahal get pinned against the wall of the path and bolts toward him, smashing the Fir Bhlog with her shield as she powers past.

The giant makes stab at the lady paladin, raking his spear across her shield and marring the newly-painted surface. But the creature seems more interested in back-pedaling than pursuing Moirne. It tries to keep Seaghdh at bay and stay standing with a crushed kneecap. Then in a great voice he booms: “Goibniu an rí! Goibniu a thabhairt dom neart!” Suddenly he's standing solidly again, the worst of his wounds mended, and a sober determination in his eyes.

Moirne reaches the first Fir Bhlog just as Cahal is ripping his spear from it. But the Dal Riada barbarian is swaying on his feet, and despite his rage, his bloodloss has dulled his senses. Growling in pain, the giant ignores Moirne for the time and keeps close to Cahal, once again stabbing his great, serrated spear low and deep.

Now close to the third Fir Bhlog, Der’Faille smells its ancient musk and the stench of wine clinging to its beard and armor. This one was more drunk than the rest, but he was a mean drunk, and Liam’s jests and songs did nothing for his humor. Nor does the sudden stab of Der’Faille’s spear. The Fir Bhlog roars defiantly as the ranger skips out of reach of his weapon. The giant then rounds on Liam, bellowing “T suas, amhránaí!” Deftly the creature swings his spear around like a bat and brains Liam with it. The wooden haft cracks against the bard’s skull, ringing his head like a gong. Indeed, after a strike like that, Liam may never hear again.

Combat NotesPlease place your AC and Max/Current HP somewhere in your post.

Hugh: Did you cancel your Bardic Performance when you cast your spell last round?

Seaghdh and Moirne still have +2 bonus on attack rolls, saving throws, skill checks, and ability checks until they suffer damage.

Party Status
Cahal: 13hp damage.
Liam: 16hp damage. FORT save DC 10 or you are Deafened. See the Bard class description for consequences.

Enemy Status
Fir Bhlog #1: Wounded for 33hp; AC 17 (touch 10). Fighting Cahal and Moirne. Flanked.
Fir Bhlog #2: Wounded for 34hp (Heals 14hp); AC 17 (touch 10). Attacking Seaghdh. Casting provokes AOO from Seaghdh.
Fir Bhlog #3: Wounded for 13hp; AC 15 (touch 8). Hexed by Ceara, and fighting Liam and Der’Faille

Last edited by mountainbound; 03-28-2011 at 03:12 PM.
  #168  
Old 03-28-2011, 01:07 PM
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Magic, now! As if the fact that these... things, had the gall to even exist in the first place was not enough! Now they resort to magic! No. NO! NOOO!!!

Seaghdh's hammer smashes wildly into the giant as it beseeches... something, for aid! Damn right it needs aid! And Seaghdh isn't going to let it simply escape from him so easily! He rips the frozen hammer out of the giant's side, laughing madly as the being's blood falls to the ground as frozen crystal instead of liquid. It is going to need a great deal more than divine aid to escape from the wild warrior. Unfortunately, it gets such assistance in the form of a stunned bird.

One of the birds responsible for the outrageous display earlier had been struck by a weapon in the angry waving and flailing of wepaons and limbs, but not killed-- only knocked to the ground. The rotund morning dove finally snaps awake again in the midst of the fight, taking to wing as Seaghdh moves forward to pursue the wounded giant and finish it off. As Seaghdh winds up to deliver a rib-shattering strike, a buzz of noise and a flash of something passing by grabs his attention. His reflexes, taut to excess and wired on whatever magic this island possesses, immediately change his course, throwing his arm, and the hammer, at the pudgy blob trying desperately to take wing and escape the intense battle.

There is an explosion of fluffy white feathers and snow as the hammer collides with something definitely not the giant; Seaghdh pauses to stare in wonder, trying to figure out just what the hell he did manage to hit...

OOC
Hit on the AoO for 13+5 cold (18) damage.

Oh, and since I'm grumpy that I missed on this attack, did the giant make the concentration check to complete the spell since I hit with the AoO? Also, I claim poetic license for the miss.

Whiffed on the attack. Again.

HP: 31/32
AC: 22

Just don't die outright, Grogg! We've got enough healing to get you mobile, at least! Assuming we ever manage to drop one of these bastards! >.<
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Last edited by GeoAvanti; 03-28-2011 at 09:35 PM.
  #169  
Old 03-28-2011, 05:41 PM
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As yet another stab punctured Cahal, it becomes increasingly difficult to breath. Blood is coming out almost faster than he can cough to clear it. His inhales are ragged and gurgling, while the exhales spew a fine red mist and a small waterfall down his chin. The last attack against him caused the brutish barbarian to drop to one knee as the serrated tip was pulled from him. His body began to shake as it entered the start of shock from the bloodloss.

W'ere is yer god now Gobán? I'm gonna be meeting 'im I guess. I'll proba'ly see ya der too. But first, I am taking dis beas' down.

Rising quickly, Cahal Purely for cinematic reasons.leaps at the Fir Bhlog, getting a few feet off the ground. While airborne, he grips the spear in a way that allows him to sink it deep into the creature's neck, one of the only exposed areas visible to him from that angle. His body continues forward, heavily hitting the creature with a dull, wet *Perhaps it was more of a *splat*.thud*. Blood from his hip and stomach wounds cover the front of the Fir Bhlog's armor. The warrior also coughs, splattering a hailstorm of rubies onto the face of his foe. That cough caused a small, grimacing smile to play over his bloody features, possibly one of his last images of this world. The large man knows the end is at hand for him, but still loves that he is going out with style and honor. Respect your enemyMeas do namhaid. Still, with anger seething through is teeth, he spoke to the face of his foe before withdrawing for the final strike.

"I'll be seeing you in hell Fir Bhlog!Beidh mé go bhfaca tú in ifreann Fir Bhlog!"

 

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Last edited by Grogg Tree; 03-29-2011 at 02:59 PM.
  #170  
Old 03-29-2011, 12:47 AM
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Running to aid the seemingly unstoppable clansman, Moirne calls for her goddess to be with her. As she takes position at the assailant's back, the maiden is amazed at the results of this one-on-one clash between the giant of legend, and the giant Dal Riada. So much blood! Can there be so much blood in any creature still fighting? Any two even? Moirne wants to bind the wounds, to protect the recklessly dangerous man from the thirsty spears, to fix things. But as Cahal flings himself at the fir bhlog, bleeding worse than something the dogs have been at, she doesn't know how to get between the two.

Moirne starts to shriek her frustration at not being able to help Cahal, when she feels a sudden sense of pressure, no, of presence pushing at her awareness of the scene. She could no longer see every bird in the sky, even silhouetted in the oppressive light of the sun; the birds were one big symbol to her, guided by power greater than these brutes. A power which had given them weapons, all but ordering the fir bhlog's deaths.

She twitches as energy surges through her, an old familiar thrill that had won her allegiance long before Toirdhealbhach's trials made all the old stories real. As Cahal and his opponent gasp and threaten each other, Moirne looks at the giant's back and whispers: "It's Samhain." Her own wants were, for the moment, set aside for another task that needed doing. "Macha and the Morrigu ride tonight, with the dead thunder of raven wings behind them. I feel Her eye upon me, and with your blood I will bless the land." The paladin's spear and shield swing in beautiful unison, even the twice-marred white paint dazzling to the eyes in this sun. Moirne shouts her satisfaction over the creaking crash of wood and the dull ugly sound of the spear point ripping flesh; there is more blood on the ground.


Last edited by Chiima; 03-29-2011 at 12:51 AM. Reason: Oh yeah, mechanics, not just fun flavor text...
  #171  
Old 03-29-2011, 02:53 PM
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Liam: AC 17 HP 2

Quote:
“T suas, amhránaí!”
Liam tries to raise his shield in time to fend off the fast approaching weapon, but his injured arm screams in pain and the spear bashes his head with a loud *crack*. Pain sears through the bard's skull, and he hears the dull throb of his blood as it pours from his ear, the warm blood feeling almost cool against his flushed skin. The music in his heart is gone, replaced by a dull ringing and a rhythmic thumping. Ga-dunk, ga-dunk, ga-dunk... He stares up at the Fir Bhlog, it's mouth open and roaring yet only a dull sound reaches Liam's ears. His eyes are dull, and his mouth hangs open, the world spinning slightly as he tries to come to grips with the sights of battle around him.

Suddenly he feels the pulse in his hand, that same pulse when he first picked up Croí Bhfostu, the heartbeat of the weapon. The bronze spear appears to have grown of its own accord, and small bronze thorns suddenly appear along the edge of the blade, nasty barbed things that promise vengeance and pain. Liam stares at the weapon for but a moment, and it seems as if the weapon itself urges him back to the fight.

Turning his head, Liam looks up at the giant in front of him. He grits his teeth and flips his grip on the spear, raising it above his shoulder and with a great yell, "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!" he drives it into the Fir Blogh's belly with all the strength left in his battered body. Then he pulls as hard as he can, hoping to rip the weapon clean of his foe, hoping to see enemy blood rather than Dal Riada spill red upon the dusty ground.

 
  #172  
Old 03-29-2011, 10:09 PM
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With a jump to the left, a crouching spin, followed by a step to the right, Der'Faille puts his hands on his hips and his knees in tight, then leading with a pelvic thrust as he saw the creature's spear heading for him in a wide arc, he skip- kicked over the weapon's head...all in one continuous movement. "Ha!", he was feeling rather pleased with himself when he looked over in Liam's direction, with a brag on his lips, to see his friend take a nasty blow to the head with the butt end of the same spear. He pulled his chest in and winced as he heard the mighty thud on Liam's pate and saw the pained expression on his, now grey, face.

He had to get this giant thing's attention away from the bard. "Hey you! I have never fought a female giant before! Our women are beautiful, difficult and terrible! You are ugly, dainty, and smelly!" With the last syllable, Der'Faille jabbed his spear at it's groin but the thing was a seasoned warrior and was able to deflect it. The Fir Bhlog did not deflect it enough, however. The ranger's spear dug deeply into it's thigh and Der'Faille, as was his way, twisted the shaft when he felt the momentum of the tip slow.

How did that feel, bitch!?Conas a raibh go mbraitheann, madra baineann!?

 


 

Last edited by AncientOrder; 03-29-2011 at 10:11 PM.
  #173  
Old 03-31-2011, 11:33 AM
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The towering Fir Bhlog in the middle of the path has only just finished calling upon the ancient powers of Ériu when Seaghdh drives in, smashing his hammer into the giant’s shoulder with an icy crack. The creature is off-guard and off-balance, but before the Pictish warrior can pound him again, a dove explodes into the air in front of Seaghdh, giving the Fir Bhlog time to angle his spear into a more defensive position. Using its longer legs and considerable reach, it sidesteps Seaghdh’s shield and plunges its spear below the warrior’s arm. As the wide, serrated blade is withdrawn, Seaghdh gasps at the pain and sudden suffocating feeling that grip him – lungs collapsing, his own blood begins to drown him from the inside. The sadistic Fir Bhlog grins, “Beidh mé ag gut An maith leat an mhuc a bhfuil tú!”

To the left of them, Cahal makes his final stand, his own life pouring out onto the holy sands of Oileán na Cloichegorm. Heedless of his enemy’s greater size, strength and reach, the barbarian levels his black-tipped spear and sinks it deeply into the Fir Bhlog’s neck. At that moment, Moirne shouts a challenge from behind, and the two Ar Leith converge on the giant, sandwiching it between them. Spears plunge repeatedly as the creature slowly careens forward. Cahal sees the Fir Bhlog’s eyes glaze and quickly lurches out of the way as half a ton of muscle and bone topples lifeless toward him. Behind the fallen giant stands Moirne, her white shield now smeared red with blood, gray wolfhound at her side.

The third Fir Bhlog is faring little better than his companions, but even with death imminent, the vengeful creature fights on. Though Der’Faille rounds near and cuts deep with his spear, the giant seems dead-set on Liam. The brute was a seasoned warrior, and it knew a vulnerable opponent when it saw one. Cahal had managed to hold his own – barely – against a Fir Bhlog, but Liam was not a trained killer. His skill lay in stirring hearts with verse, not piercing them with spears. He was part of a millennia-old tradition rooted in reminding men of the ancient legends, inspiring the clans, and preserving the very soul of Ériu through song and story. Liam was a fili, a sacred rememberer, a bard… As the mythical Fir Bhlog shatters his sternum with its serrated spear, the man’s thoughts are not on bloodlust or vengeance, but on his noble craft. And it is thus that Liam Aimhirghin falls.

With one opponent down, the drunk and wounded Fir Bhlog whips his bloody spear around, growling, “Tá tú chugainn, amadán beag,” at Der’Faille. The weapon shoots forward, faster than even the nimble ranger can react to, biting into Der’Faille’s calf as he tries to fling himself away.
Combat NotesPlease place your AC and Max/Current HP somewhere in your post.

The Fir Bhlogs are all within 40’, so characters not currently engaged may simply take a move action to reach #2 or #3 this turn.

Party Status
Seaghdh: 15hp damage.
Der’Faille: 12hp damage.
Liam: 17hp damage. Hugh, let’s talk in your private thread about where to go from here (possibility of a new character, etc.).

Enemy Status
Fir Bhlog #1: Dead. Suffered 74hp damage from Cahal and Moirne.
Fir Bhlog #2: Severely Wounded for 52hp; AC 17 (touch 10). Fighting Seaghdh.
Fir Bhlog #3: Wounded for 38hp; AC 15 (touch 8 - Still hexed). Fighting Der’Faille.
  #174  
Old 03-31-2011, 08:00 PM
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He pulled his spear out of its leg with a jerk, readying himself for the attack that was sure to come. The giant creature, however, had another idea. With blood pouring out of its various wounds it did not turn away from Liam as hoped; it must have seen Liam slump and completely drop his guard. Der'Faille saw the massive spear rip into Liam's chest, opening his chest into a gape, and compelling the bard to spew a fountain of precious life.

"Noooooooo! Liam!"

This could not be! We're not going to die! He looked up at the creature just in time to see the same spear come at him. As he saw it come, so too did he feel his enemies blade slide into and through his calf...the pain was strangely delayed until the Fir Bhlog returned the ranger's gesture by twisting the spear and jerking it out.

Through the disbelief, emotion, and pain, Der'Faille reacted as best he could... and jammed his own spear into the creature's forearm. A painful gash, certainly, but it barely elicited a wince.

A strange peace came over him when he readied himself for the next attack (as best he could). I will feed your entrails to these birds, f*c&ing filthy pig."Beidh mé do ionathar beatha do na héin, frakking muc salach."

 


 
  #175  
Old 03-31-2011, 09:14 PM
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Taking down the mighty Fir Bhlog was an accomplishment in it's own right. The creatures were anywhere from three to five feet taller than any of the Ar Leith and outweighed Cahal by four times his own weight. So, he was grateful to have a moment to rest. Looking at Moirne, he nodded, not really seeing who it was because of the blood pouring into his eyes. He dug the tip of his spear into the ground and leaned heavily on the weapon, coughing up even more blood. The coppery flavor was beginning to get to him, as was the constant layer of it coating his throat. After his bout of coughing, he took a shallow breath in and had a blood clot start to go down his throat.

"Hurrghaghggh!!!"

Vomiting, the brave barbarian covered the sands with a large sheet of red, much like he had lazily spread a bed cover over the ground. Coughing up more phlegm and bodily fluids, Cahal final spit in disgust. He turned to see how the others were fairing and caught sight of a larger figure stabbing a smaller one. Upon the removal of the spear, the small creature crumpled to the ground. He didn't know who it was or if they were okay though. Wh-- NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

"Damn you.... die!!!"

Wiping his face to clear his vision, the large man gripped his spear with his now overly blood saturated hand and leaning back, threw the weapon at his newest target. Unfortunately for Cahal, the motion of throwing the weapon caused him to convulse at precisely the wrong time due to his three, gaping holes and he eased up on his launching of it. As a result, the spear went true, but simply hit the creature's back armor and bounced off. Tired, in so much pain that is was beyond words or thoughts, and bleeding to death, the man sank to his knees and hung his head. Time was working against him it seemed.

 

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Last edited by Grogg Tree; 03-31-2011 at 11:40 PM.
  #176  
Old 04-01-2011, 01:36 AM
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One moment she had been as happy as she had been in years. Now, she was living one of the worst moments as she watched helplessly as one of the huge Fir Bhlog ripped the last of Liam’s life from his body. “Nooooo!” she screamed at the same time the others did. This above all other things brought her to action. Looking over she took in the situation no longer with a scared feeling…but one of a hunter looking for prey. She could see Cahal throw his spear out of his blood soaked hands, stumble…and miss. “I can do nothing for Liam. I must help the living” she thought as all her attention was drawn to the one her barbarian friend had just missed. “They are so strong…..what can I do?” She thought about drawing upon the magic she had unleashed on the shamber…but that would not help enough to save her friends. These darn beasts are so powerful that with their spears they can hardly miss……miss…..” It was then…that she knew what she had to do.

She moved forward towards the Fir Bhlog and as she did so….she drew in the power. As she did this….the power almost took her breath away. So magical was this place that Ceara could almost see the misty blue waves of the ley lines as she drew it upon herself. She did not even have to glance at her hands to know that the power was coalescing there like some strange blue ball of blue fire. She knew that nobody else could see this power save for magical creature…but to her it was exhilarating…..on the verge of being a violation. She could lose herself in this power. She mentally took control and FORCED herself to put down the need to draw more power. Stopping 20 feet from the giant she thrust forth her hands and felt the power release. It was….pure rapture. Unable to help herself she screamed out in a voice that could make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Never had she EVER felt such power…much less released it in a focused way. Even as she did this….she dreamed of doing it again. She knew all too well…this was not a good thing.

 

Last edited by AlwaysCivilMike; 04-01-2011 at 01:38 AM.
  #177  
Old 04-02-2011, 01:40 PM
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Seaghdh's body can no longer keep pace with the maddening delight he had been subjected to, and as the giant's spear draws blood from the Scotti warrior, the flash of pain burns away the insane brightness and color of the island. He feels slower, more sluggish, though he is certain that has only to do with the fight, not his inability to keep pace with a formidable creature of legend. To not be able to do so would simply not be Scottish!

But now, as his focus begins to return, he can see the whole of the battle-- though it is difficult with the great, spear-wielding wall standing before him. He pushes in for an attack, hoping to throw his opponent off-balance more than to strike a killing blow-- he is not so sure he could manage that in one swift strike anymore. He is confused about the time up until now, his memories are hurried, jumbled, and confusing. Only the hurt in his side, and the feel of his own blood against his skin can keep him from drawing off into the delirium again.

His attack falls short-- though such an awkward and ill-attempted swing could barely be called an attack.

He takes this instant to survey the rest of the battle. One of the giants is down, leaving two more to be slain. Liam is down and unmoving. Dead? Or simply near to? It is impossible to tell just yet. Cahal is more corpse than living by now, though Seaghdh is not terribly surprised to see the great man yet on his feet despite everything. Damn.

They have the advantage against the giants, but both sides have taken losses already, and there is plenty of blood from both sides on the ground, staining the island with a rich scarlet. From experience, Seaghdh knows that, by tomorrow, this entire scene will be a blackish stain.

And there is still much more blood to be spilled yet.

OOC
Attack and a miss. Take a 5-foot step to try to move into a position to open up flanking.

HP: 16/32
AC: 22
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  #178  
Old 04-02-2011, 03:08 PM
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"Macha, Claim my harvestglac mo fómhar!"
The giant who had been about to kill Cahal falls forward, gushing life. Moirne's voice rings like thunder against the cliff face smeared with her clansman's blood and the maiden feels her own cry resonate back through her, riding the strange energy of this island that buzzes through her bones. The heat is so small a concern that the paladin only notices it when she feels her words flying from a dry throat.

"The gods claim sacrifice today -" Moirne's proclamation stops short as she sees how great that truth is. The fir bhlog pulls its spear from Liam's chest, and for just an instant the paladin stands as still as if she herself had been felled, watching the moment of death on the bard's face. A clean death, bravely won in battle, better than she's seen in these few dark days since receiving Goban's summons... But by the mantled wings of the Lady of Crows, Liam was hers to protect!

Moirne breaks her stillness at that, rocked as visibly as if a great hand had tried to knock some truth into her; or as much as she can bear. The island hasn't changed for Liam's death, their task is still as important, and the giddy power of it will not let the maiden sink into guilt when she still has a purpose. The fallen in battle belong to her lady, for good or ill, and the battlemaiden gives up whatever words she still had for a banshee shriek that challenges the two remaining giants.

There is anger in it, but no rage; instead a happiness that is fierce and joyous at the same time. It is as if the spirit of anger fills her, pure and hot as this sunlight and infinitely clean.

As if this was the thing that anger was for.

Moirne closes with the killer, pushing the staggering barbarian back towards Ceara. He needs help. But the maiden's touch is gentle, and without thinking her care for her comrades lets some of the power spill into Cahal.

 

Last edited by Chiima; 04-03-2011 at 04:34 PM.
  #179  
Old 04-03-2011, 11:16 AM
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Goodbye

"Agh!" Liam rips the spear out of the Fir Bhlog's body, and he can almost feel the thorny spear tearing flesh as it exits, scratching to bite into its prey like a living tangle of vines. It finally comes loose and Liam steps back, chest heaving with the exertion, the hot air swimming in front of his eyes as the living mountain bellows before him. Somewhere to his right, he can hear the deep roar of the other Fir Bhlog,
Quote:
“Beidh mé ag gut An maith leat an mhuc a bhfuil tú!”
He hopes Cahal and Moirne are faring better than he.

Suddenly a flash of movement catches his eye, and Liam turns his head slightly to see Der'Faille! Now this giant will feel real pain... Der'Faille's face is grim, his eyes set for battle as he comes upon the giant. The ranger strikes with his spear and Liam hears the thick crunch as the steel breaks through armor to find soft flesh. The giant before Liam roars again, but as Liam raises his eyes further, he meets those of the Fir Bhlog, massive, red rimmed eyes as big as goose eggs, eyes that bore into him with a furious drunken determination, eyes bent on revenge.

A massive arm hefts an enormous spear, and now Liam's eyes are almost as large as the giant's. The world seems to slow down for a moment, and Liam desperately raises his shield, sensing the imminent attack coming. His strength has almost left him, his muscles scream in torment, his tongue feels like a dead rat lying in his mouth, his shoulder burns with renewed fire, and his stomach lurches like a drunk on wet grass. Raise, you damned shield! Raise! The wood feels like iron, but as that massive arm begins to whip forward, Liam manages to raise his defense to meet it, every muscle driving forward to stop that weapon...

*CRACK*

...that bursts through his shield as if it were stale bread. Now the world is moving too fast. The right corner of the shield explodes as the spear drives forward faster than though to sink deep into Liam's chest. Liam can hear the dull crunch as the spear-tip passes through leather, passes through skin, a sudden moment of horrible, unbearable pressure on his chest, then a sharp crack as the weapon punches bone inwards. The bard tries to draw breath, his vision exploding with bright lights of pain, but he can only hack and cough a bit, and he feels a thick trickle of blood flow warm past his cracked lips.

Then the spear is ripped from his body with a burst of blood and bone, the force of the motion jerking Liam forward, down onto his knees, and he has one moment to feel a completely new sensation. The feeling of the open air caressing his pierced heart, which with a last fluttery beat forces blood out of the open cavity in his chest. Though his eyes are wide open, Liam can't see anything, the world has gone dark. The bard pitches forward face first onto the ground, his weapon and shield dropping from lifeless hands, dead before his face slams into the dusty.

And there he lies, no last parting joke, no desperate cry to his comrades for vengeance, no stirring word extolling them to press on. This is no story or legend, this is real life. This is how death really is; quick and painful. A motionless corpse lying face-down in a pool of blood and dirt, eyes opened wide with fear. A bloody cough his parting speech, a dull thud his funeral bell.

It is thus that Liam Aimhirghin falls.

Last edited by HughtheHand; 04-03-2011 at 11:18 AM.
  #180  
Old 04-04-2011, 09:34 AM
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As the bard falls, Der’Faille quickly lands a strike against the Fir Bhlog, ripping free his spear with a spray of blood. The creature swings his own weapon round once again, but its tip meets only stone as the ranger bolts out of the way.

Both sides seem to be flagging now. Each has suffered a loss (though the fact has not yet sunk in on some of the Ar Leith), and each was battle weary. Seaghdh’s frozen hammer, Fuar Croi, grows as heavy as one of the Fir Bhlog’s boulders, the haft slipping in his hand. Even Cahal can’t seem to summon the strength to make his Black Feather fly true, the spear limply bouncing off the giant’s boiled leather armor. Moirne lays a soothing hand on the barbarian, and perhaps the touch of the divine will be enough to rekindle the spark of battle in him.

From farther down the path, Ceara summons the powers of the island, channeling them against the mighty Fir Bhlog facing her Pictish companion. But the creatures themselves were from a time and place steeped in magic – hailing from a race older than even the Tuatha Dé Danann. The creature waves a stubby hand before his beard, batting away the witch’s spell as though swatting a horsefly.

The nine-foot giant then tries to finish Seaghdh off, but can’t seem to land a proper blow. Even with size and strength on their side, the Fir Bhlogs know they were now well outnumbered, and couldn’t afford a hasty move. As though sharing one thought, both creatures take a large step backward, nearer to one another in a more defensive posture.

The one who had earlier called down the blessing of the ancient powers suddenly raises his voice at the Ar Leith, and the sound of his words are terrible to hear. “Fir ideal! Beidh tú gafa anseo. Teitheadh anois!” There is a peculiar weight to the call, a physical force that pummels your spirits and makes your hearts sag – and then sag all the more as you notice Liam has not moved for many long moments. Looking upon your fallen companion, with the Fir Bhlog filling the air with threats, you realize it could easily be you lying face-down in the dirt next. What the Fir Bhlog is saying makes sense – perhaps it was best to leave this island while you still could…

Combat NotesPlease place your AC and Max/Current HP somewhere in your post.

Ceara: The Fir Bhlog passed his save, but despite the flavor text above, does not have any special SR.

The two remaining Fir Bhlogs each take a 5’ (10’) step backing toward each other, and cannot be flanked.

Though speaking in an antiquated dialect, you can still understand the Fir Bhlog’s words, and are subject to their power. All characters must roll a Will Save, DC 13. (fear-based) If you fail you must flee as quickly as possible, back down the path, for 1 round.

Party Status
No damage this round.

Enemy Status
Fir Bhlog #2: Severely Wounded for 52hp; AC 17 (touch 10). Closest to Seaghdh.
Fir Bhlog #3: Wounded for 43hp; AC 15 (touch 8 - Still hexed). Closest to Der’Faille.

Last edited by mountainbound; 04-04-2011 at 11:04 AM. Reason: Fear-based
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