Post War Natives - 1/2/2011

Short, but I didn't want to describe in intricate detail another long battle - it's not needed, and in truth, gets a bit boring to write and to read I assume! Anyway, I have cut this off just before the end of the actual session as I think the next bit will flow better with what happens in the next session. Enjoy!
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06:23 – All of the warforged that charge down that corridor are well trained, well disciplined and highly skilled soldiers, and they make the party pay in blood and pain for their crimes. Varracuda is almost killed by a headshot from the musket of one of them, whilst the thrown axes and scything sword blows of the others render horrible ruin on those unfortunate enough to get too close. Even fearless Schnecke is forced to fall back, dismayed as musket rounds blast holes in his flesh and as his foes stubbornly refuse to blindly charge into their chamber and give up the cover the corridor provides, and for a while it seems that at best, this will be a horrible stalemate; Grigori's most potent healing spells just managing to keep his allies conscious whilst these 'forged, and no doubt many more behind them, move to crush them.

They never once give up hope, but all know that their luck will change eventually, and that although they may slay all the first wave, another will come...then another....then another...and even the most resolute amongst them begins to wonder how they will get out of this (though a cold, hungry voice in the priest's mind tells him not to worry)...

...And then the priest catches a snatch of sound from behind the deafening, stinking melee, echoing with the sharp, deadly hiss of a knife sliding over bone; a sputtering, chemical spitting – harsh and urgent – and with a sudden weakness in his bowels he knows what distant sound he has heard.

His fears are confirmed when one 'forged, at the back of this wave, suddenly flees, a blurt of machine chant loudly emitting from his augmentor...


A few more blows are exchanged and then...

...It is as if the hand of some vast and vicious god has swatted them. Everyone - human, genasai, 'forged, drakven and shape-shifter - are picked up and thrown to the east, the air boiling around them with searing heat and rupturing noise. Lights go out and horrible darkness, filled only with the screaming whistle of burst or damaged eardrums, and the choking burn of hot dust and billowing sulphurous smoke, envelops them. Pain courses through them as they smash into the floor or walls, and as the pressure wave chews on their bodies and shakes internal organs almost to destruction.

06:24 – 06:26 – No one in the room knows how long it is before their hearing starts, weakly to come back, or how long it takes them to gather their shattered consciousness and wits. The light of Grigori's enchanted lantern filters dustily through the suffocating air, revealing the vast cracks that yawn in the chambers walls, the rubble that covers much of it, and the form of at least one of the 'forged – taken apart by the blast and reduced to rags and scrap.

Everyone save one of the gunners and Emmiven are prone, the room spinning madly, sickeningly around them, and for the moment, the fight, the taking of Balskus and the invasion of New Forge's heart is forgotten.

For a moment...

The battle surges back to life, with the staggering, zombie like mercenaries moving to quickly slay their downed foes before they can gather their wits enough to defend themselves. The 'forged do manage to strike back, but forced into the chamber, surrounded by the group, they have lost all their former advantages, and are swiftly dispatched.

No more 'forged are coming, though the group can feel deep vibrations thrumming through the less than stable looking ceiling of the chamber.

“Let's get out of here if we can” coughs Jaeger, his face black with dust and smeared with blood.