Maruc could do no more for the present for his poisoned comrades. He gathered his shield and flail and descended into the main hall and joined Feldard and Stephan. At least he could lend a supporting arm in a tight spot and he had spent his healing. He looked over to Hasan, who was looking much better. Maruc offered a brief prayer of thanks and protection to Blessed Halav and turned to Stephan.
“Death chant eh? Oh goodie, it seems they’re getting the idea.” he said dryly. “Haven’t they got the message yet? To my count they are beating us in the mortalities. But that’s why they need to psych themselves up I guess. They’ll probably make some grand gesture like try to burn the place down.” he added with a grin.
Miklos’s eyes felt sore and gritty. He wished he could close them. This was more frustrating than a whole crowd of Goblins jumping up and down on him. The itch he had discovered some time ago was adding to his misery, that, and the knot in the carpet in the small of his back. Maruc, the least he could have done was lay him on a bed. He tried to switch off, lose himself mentally. He started recanting the fifty symbols of elemental control he followed this with Mordensky’s theory of Minor Levitation and its uses in potion production. Time ticked by impossibility slowly…
The eastern noise puzzled Hasan. “Unusual, Feldard, don’t you think? They have attached this door every time. Well, if they will present yet another feint, maybe this will hold them just a bit.” The elf approached the battered door and carefully outlined the doorway with his hands. Focusing intently, he began to speak in a lilting, gauzy voice. He pulled his hands together; the apparently gentle clap made an outsized bang. Hasan then collapsed a bit and shrugged. “I don’t know if the spell worked. I guess we’ll see. The magic may not hold a portal as battered as this.” And then the elf went carefully upstairs to watch the eastern wood.
Feldard didn’t comment back regarding the ‘death chant’ – it was all meant to instill fear, and Feldard was too pumped to be afraid. He just wanted the damn beasties to attack already…. the wait was annoying!
The dwarf watched with a slight frown as the elf cast magic on the door. Feldard somewhat tolerated magic these days.. from Miklos—the man had proven himself to the dwarf through their journeys. But to see others doing it still made the dwarf wary. He moved a bit away and took up his waiting position further from the door.
He hoped the magic wouldn’t hold the door long. He was already on edge, eager to get back into the fray and show the goblins that nothing—not even near death—would keep him from slaying each and every one of them. His leg vibrated under his armour in anticipation.. and his grip on his axe was tight. Soon…
Irina did not try to keep Stephan or the others that now bore significant wounds from readying for battle.
Stephan positioned himself to have a clear arrow shot when the attack began. He checked his leather armor fittings, tightening two of the ties. Gathering what arrows he could, he ensured his quiver was secure and stretched his arm so it would be limber for reaching arrows.
The chanting suddenly stopped, and the clearing was quickly overrun with the creatures as they charged the tower. The main contingent consisted of what looked to be about thirty goblins. All Red Blade. They carried with them five crude ladders.
A separate group of about a dozen raced over the remains of the burnt palisade, charging toward the door.
Miklos was halfway through Traditional Bylaws in governance protocols as it pertains to daemonolgy and summoned spirits when the itch behind his ear got too much and he scratched it. He put his arm down and laid there for a few moments. He frowned trying to remember law 14b iiiv. He got up and went to his spell book and flicked through it. Aha! there it was. Gods his back ached. He frowned again as the sounds of fighting filtered up from below. Were the students revolting again?
He went to the window and stared at the young man frantically firing a longbow in a concerted attempt to use up his supply of arrows as quickly as possible.
That’s a bit harsh for students, thought Miklos absently.
Then he remembered. The bats. The poison.
He opened his spellbook and glancing at the horde approaching started chanting straight from his book.