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Storm reels from the impact of Gaven's forceful blow. He shakes his head clear of the dizziness that came with the shot, confused at how a simple staff such as Gaven's could cause so much damage. "Aye, that ain't no simple staff!" He thinks to himself. He is hurt, but certainly not down for the count. Again he snarls, saying curses on magic under his breath, and he leaps with a dwarven battle cry toward the mage, both long swords flurrying in attack.

His body seeming to hover above the cold ground, Storm lands a solid hit on the mage Gaven with his sword, but misses with his second attack. Still he is momentarily satisfied with the blow, which definitely struck Gaven hard. The mage backsteps with the impact, but does not fall.

Crayne looks up from Edyrd's position and sees Storm engaging the figure of Gaven. Enraged by the man's arrogance, Crayne seethes with anger. "'You dare strike me?!' Was what he said?!" Crayne recollects. He had promised himself when leaning over the body of his dead parents that never again would he be so helpless in protecting good from evil.

Feeling the power of anger and pain swelling up within himself, Crayne clutches his teeth together in a vain attempt to control it. Looking about the scene of battle before him he moves off to the right and picks up a large wooden plank which is resting up against one of the nearby walls. He then dips it in some flame from the nearby burning wagon. "How appropriate," he thinks, "as my own staff burns its flame will provide justice."

As he sees Rinder's soldiers piling through he grabs hold of one of them and says quickly, "I am Crayne of the Rinders Six! That there is Gaven," Crayne points him out, "a foe who must be dealt with! The man he fights is Storm, another of the Six, one of the bravest in fact. Today you could be a hero and I am sure that you will not fail me. What is your name?"

"Cole!" the soldier responds, breathing hard with the excitement.

"Well, Cole, take this flame and approach this Gaven from the rear and light up the man's cloak! Now go my friend! Your name will be remembered you may be rest assured good man!"

Crayne then quickly makes his way over to Emma, the priestess. "Please! Is there something that I can do? I'll help you bring him into the shelter of the stable!" he struggles for breath as he strains to keep aware of the events surrounding him. His head beats and swirls with the sounds of swords clinging, screams of death echoing and scenes of blood. His chest is in tatters as he looks down, but the adrenaline pumping through his body keeps him from vomiting.

Vaguely, Emma hears Crayne's words, though they seem distant and almost otherworldly. Had her own spirit traveled into the netherworld, too? If so, where was Edryd's? Shouldn't he be there, as well?

Finally, she blinks and the world begins moving around her once again. The sounds of battle flood her ears and she can once again feel Edryd's body beneath her hands. She nods at the mage, fighting back her tears and emotion to deal with the problem at hand.

"Yes," she manages to say, lifting the heavy Sword-Bearer's body with Crayne's assistance. She leans into the motion in order to drag him to cover in the nearby stable.

Meanwhile, Cy continues to lead his skirmishing force through the battlefield. They make another pass through a formation of nearby Caerloon troops. They are quite successful, striking a number of the enemy men hard. "They don't seem to be fighting quite as hard, now," he thinks to himself. "Could the tide of battle be turning? Or could this be the priestess' bidding?"

In the process, however, Cy's group took some damage. Cy found himself lightly slashed (4 hp damage) and some others of his party were hit as well.

Hannibal, exchanging fire with a Caerloon sentry on the catwalk, fires off two more arrows. The first shot misses as the sentry jumps aside. But Hannibal quickly follows that one with a second, which strikes the man in the chest. He stumbles backwards, trying to regain his balance and avoid falling into the fray below.

Canter continues his battle against a nearby enemy, landing a heavy blow on the soldier's shoulder. The man backpedals and curses in response to the hit, but does not fall.

Dire Luthor, standing behind Hannibal on the catwalk, begins to intone words of magic; ones unlike any that Hannibal has ever heard before. He moves his hands with one outstretched finger, sweeping through the air. Then, suddenly, something new enters the scene. Eleven figures come charging through the main gates, running toward the battle scene. They are not human, they are tall, with hyena-like heads and necks and long snouts. But they stand on two legs and are humanoid.

"Gnolls..." Wheeler seethes under his breath. "Of all the times to..." Wheeler's voice trails off as he sees the band of Gnolls head directly for a central group of Caerloon soldiers and prompty attack. Then a smile comes across Wheeler's face. "I'm not going to question. Thanks be to the gods!"

The fighter attacking Canter moves for another shot, but Canter is quick on his feet (despite the damage he's taken!), and evades the blow in an acrobatic move. "Aha!" Canter quips. The Caerloon soldier is frustrated and growls.

At the same time, the sentry trading missiles with Hannibal attacks. Both his shots are wide and high, however, as he is rapidly losing blood and his aim is suffering.

Gaven turns his attention to Storm. "You pesky little brat!" he calls toward the Dwarf. He swings his staff strongly at Storm, but is just not fast enough this time. Storm dives to the side and rolls on the ground, avoiding the blow and jumping back up to his feet.

At that moment Cole arrives, taking advantage of Gaven's open back. He gets close enough and then launches the flaming board through the air. It strikes the mage on the back, pushing him forward. But at the same time it also successfully lights Gaven's cloak on fire. Cole smiles, whispering to himself Crayne's words: "a hero..."

Storm grins as he sees Gaven's cloak go up in flames. These were the moments which make a warrior. With his last ounce of strength, he charges at the mage once again. Gaven notices the flames just as Storm strikes, running his sword clear through the wizard's torso and throwing him down to the ground on his back. Dead. Storm breathes heavily and spits on Gaven's face. "Who be pesky now?!"

Hannibal sees the tide of battle turning on the field below, and hears Dire's words behind him: "I think you should get down there...Edryd..." With determination, the thief launches two more arrows at the enemy sentry, both striking the man and killing him.

Hannibal and Dire then make their way down from the catwalk, all the while watching the events below:

The Gnolls and Wheeler's men begin to encircle the Caerloon troops in the center of the field, while Pinker, Kel, and a few other men are up on the other catwalks dispatching the last of the Caerloon sentries. Rinder's Six, however, feel themselves drawn to the stable where, despite their own wounds, one of their comrades lays deathly ill.

Emma lays Edryd's body down in the hay and tries to make him comfortable. Through tears she begins to cast her only curative spell, Cure Light Wounds, hoping against hope that it can repair the damage to the paladin's tattered body. The words sail from the priestess' mouth, and she feels her hands grow warm as she places them over Edryd's wounds.

Edryd takes a deep and pained breath as Canter, Crayne, Cy, Hannibal, and Dire enter the stables. There are tears in his eyes and he cannot speak. He just looks to his friends, the pain evident on his face.

It is a matter of minutes, and the battle is over. About a hundred Caerloon soldiers are taken prisoner, dirty, sweaty, and bruised as their Rinder counterparts. Another hundred or so were killed, and it seems the remainder escaped into the night through the burning western wall of the fort. Of Wheeler's men, twenty five were killed, and a dozen more were seriously wounded. But with neither their leader, Sanford, nor the mage, Gaven, the remaining foot soldiers of Caerloon found themselves depressed, surrounded, and outmatched.

Wheeler sets some of his men in charge of the prisoners, and others with the task of putting out the numerous fires: two barracks are burning down, including sections of the western wall, in addition to a smaller fire where the wagon exploded. Lastly, he has a few men close the main gates to the fort and climb the sentry towers, a skeleton crew at best, but better than nothing at all. The band of Gnolls seem to have disappeared as strangely as they arrived.

Unable to truly relish in the victory, Wheeler and Storm enter the stable and join the vigil over Edryd of Kalt. The priestess he saved enters too, as the healers enter the fort with the closing gates. She limps and her face is ghostly white, but stands as firm as the can. She kneels by Edryd's side, facing Emma across the paladin's chest. Emma's healing spell seems to have made him a bit more comfortable, and he smiles as he sees Storm enter the room. But the bleeding in his torso and back have not stopped, and Emma can see by the exposed ivory of his ribs that there is little more that she or a healer could do.

Edryd, his breath shallow and ragged, opens his eyes, eyes that once flashed like emeralds in sunlight, now dark, candles flickering in a gale. He sees before him Emma. She is well. He smiles.

"We have walked many miles together under Anhur's care, you and I. I can remember our first days together, and how clumsy you were with that sword. You have grown, and you have made me a better swordbearer. You must carry his light now, my sister. My light grows dim, and I will soon tread the golden fields of the heavens in his rest. Please don't cry. Perhaps I expected other things, to live longer than my nineteen winters, to love..."

He glances at Mara, his beloved, but he was not quite ready to say that

goodbye.

Instead he turned first to Pinker and Kel. "You are free now. Thank you for standing firm in a hopeless time. Your strength has saved us all."

He said to Dire, "Thank you, thank you for ignoring our mistrust and naivete, for giving yourself to the battle. The poor reputation of the Red Dragon school is unearned. My hope is that people will look to you for the truth about your peers."

He looked about at the rest of Rinder's Six, those with whom he'd traveled, battled and faced death over and over, who taught him the meaning of real bravery, real loyalty, real friendship. His eyes swam with tears and that soft, final fatigue.

He looked at Crayne. "Thank you for your mind, and your faithfulness. Though we sometimes frustrated you, you have shown yourself powerful in the Art. I would not have lasted even to this day without you."

He turned to Cy. "What do I say...? As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another. May you stand with me in the heavens one day, a day far away. Thank you for standing at my shoulder, and letting me stand at yours."

Then to Canter. "You too, warrior. You are a man of perserverence and strength. It was Anhur's pleasure for me to battle alongside you, and mine to do so."

He turned to Hannibal. "Well, we have sometimes made a mess of things, haven't we? You are a valiant man, a man of honor as of yet unseen. I am glad to have known you."

Then he turned to Storm. He started to speak, but had to hold it in for a moment, overcome. "Storm. How do I say goodbye to you. We are so different, yet from the start, from the start I knew that my back was safe with you behind me. We have faced frightening and cunning foes, and none was braver than you. There were times I despaired of your survival, and yet here you are. Walk firm and proud, Storm. Anhur is pleased with you, I have no doubt, good dwarf." He reached out to Storm's arm, his grip weak and clammy, and drew him close. "Please, find Guillam for me. Find him and give him this." With Cy's help he removed the symbol of Anhur from his neck, a fine silver necklace he had kept always by his skin. "This so he will know that I thought of him too, in my last moments. Ask him to write a song about me, one that sings about how much I needed, cared for, and loved my friends."

Then he turned to Mara, hovering over him. He did not want to say anything, and he wanted to talk forever. This was not the way it was supposed to end, yet he was at peace with Anhur. He switched to the formal, speaking softly, only to her, "It doth appear that my life ist called to account ere I could fullfil mine promise to thee. As is proper I free thee from thy promise of courtship and wish thee love under the yellow sun for all thy days hereafter."

After she completed the formality, he looked into her eyes, and though he had passed the point of pain, he felt a stabbing in his heart. "Know, m'lady, that we part only for a time. Live out your life to the full, and find me in the meadows of Anhur when finally you take your rest, and we will talk of all of the things we would have talked of here, and we will hold our hands and walk and know each other as we ought. I will miss you..."

He turned and looked again to his friends, his eyes focused on a place beyond the walls. "He is calling me now, and holding out his hand...his mighty hand, strong with justice, gentle in mercy. Farewell, friends. Fare..." His head slumped to his pillow, his hair a wild tangle, his eyes gone dark and closed. Edryd of Kalt, Edryd of Rinder's Six, Paladin, Swordbearer of Anhur, was no more.

1. The Battle of Dillend is done. Rinder's forces have achieved victory, recapturing the fort, though the installation is in shambles. Crayne's staff has been destroyed by fire. Hannibal has lost 9 of his arrows, leaving 5 in his quiver. Sanford is dead. Gaven is dead.

 2. HP Status: Crayne: 3/9, Storm: 11/32, Canter: 9/22, Cy: 11/32, Hannibal: 11/17, Emma: 13/24

 3. Edryd is dead. Here's what will happen now and what you should write into your next turn:

a. your character's immediate response to his passing;

b. a memorial will be held, led by Mara, his betrothed. Any words your character would like to say during that memorial should be in your next post;

c. any other actions your character would take as the party recovers from the battle;

d. preparations for the journey to Merriam to meet with Sir Nigel to complete the mission.

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