Miklos felt the icy grasp of magic curl around his limbs. His knees buckled as he collapsed to the floor. His mind drifted back to the dark night in the tower at Sukiskyn’s holdings. Venom had laid him low before though. His leg was caught awkwardly beneath him, his ankle twisting at a painful angle. Fortunately he was on his back, this afforded a good view of Golthar. He spent his time keeping his eye on him.
He tried to remember how long the enchantment would last. A few minutes at best he suspected, but probably longer than his sleep spell, but as his master said, timings were notoriously vague. He prepared himself by carefully planning his actions when the tendrils of magic departed.
Stephan had been in a perilous position–flailing on the ground with some hideous were beast seemingly attached to his neck and laying before a formidable opponent who meant to see him dead.
The Traladaran twisted in the crunching leaves grasping at the wererat on his shoulder. The creature was surprisingly strong but the woodsman got an iron grip on the thing and wrenched it from his shoulder. Somehow, Sligh was not able to land a killing blow at this critical moment. In a split second, Stephan had the wererat smashed in the dirt. He push hard, trying to suffocate it and break its back. But this was a second only before he just rolled and flung the thing into the gloomy woods. He heard a high-pitched squeal at it sailed through the dampening air.
Maruc grinned and winked at Jolenta. He hefted his shield and launched himself at the remaining wererat that was fighting Stephan. The creature was twisted and ugly, it whipped out with its claws. Volos was enraged, he grabbed both sides of the priests shield, dragging it down with his weight. He stretched his maw and lunged at the priests head.
Maruc’s shield dropped away. The creatures angry eyes bore down on him, he ducked his head and felt it bite his helm. He pivoted with its momentum and twisted out of its grip and swung his loose flail around and cracked it behind the leg.
Vokos spat. His tough mandibles jarred against the priests metal helm. He scrabbled as he was tipped off balance, but his preternatural dexterity kept him upright until a sharp pain around his knee took his leg from beneath him. He kicked out viscously catching the priest in the greave.
Untangling his flail Maruc brought it down on the prone wererat, but before the blow landed he lost his footing as it struck his leg away. The creature was on its feet before Maruc righted himself. He mentally adjusted his tactics taking into account the creatures fast reflexes.
He tried plan B, “Lucius!”
Turned his head and looked in the direction of Maruc – mouthing the words “on my way”, he shock his head at the strange silence he was engulfed in. He charged towards the ratman, and with the silence masking his attacked struck it fully from behind with a perfect overhead swing. Not graceful, but what it lacked in style made up for in savagery. Vokos crumpled to the ground.
Continuing to roll, Stephan tried to find an opening to stand and again fight. He did! And happily found himself not having to fend off the wererat, who was now fighting Maruc.
Seeing Sligh, Stephan charged with shield up. Just before closing to striking range, he did a turning sidestep, coming down and around with his sword to hack into Sligh’s upper back. The fighter’s armor was strong but Stephan’s blow still managed to cause some real pain. Sligh let off a sickening bellow.
Leaving the first Hound to bleed out, Feldard crossed the distance to the second, blocking an attack aimed at Ludo as the man turned to give aid to the priest. Even as he swung his axe at the berzerker, the dwarf was noting that the two spellcasters were down, possibly killed by whatever magic was cast by Golthar.
Feldard cut down the unskilled madman with ease, then bellowed out in goblin towards Stephen, “We need your bow! Take out the Mage!”
Sligh staggered away to recover. Stephan heard Feldard’s bellow and somehow found his bow. Knocking arrow after arrow, he fired a volley at Golthar. Trying to hit the flying man reminded Stephan of the Battle of Tul when he served in the archery corps in the Duke’s service.
Stephan kept having to maneuver to shoot at the flitting mage. He intended to empty his quiver if necessary.