Sheercleft's forces progressed through the mountains, largely unmolested, until it reached the intended mountain pass. It was an area of serpentine winding amid large, flanking cliffs of stone. Visibility of incoming threats was terrible, but the handicap would be mutual, thus making it the perfect place to make a stand. Brundir, atop Stonebrow, rode ahead of the force with a handful of the army's sub-commanders to plan the best method of entrenching themselves. History showed that terrain can win wars, but the armies must still come to blows first. This particular place was unique in that the road dipped into a valley, then was forced to swerve around and between two great, outstretched protrusions from the surrounding walls. On a map, it looked nearly as wide as the chasm that split Sheercleft were it not for some ancient rockfall that now forced travelers to duck and weave through this pass.

It was among these outcroppings that Brundir hatched a plan. He knew the enemy would come with all manner of men, monsters, and magic. In an open field, commanding such a unbloodied force, Brundir would be hard-pressed to counter so many abnormal threats. Here, however, he could see his counterstroke. He turned to his commanders as he stood in the middle of the road at the tip of an outcropping, "We'll place ourselves 'ere. Right where I'm standin'. Big cliffs 'ere'll keep our flanks safe, then it'll just be a matter of gettin' stuck in it with'em. Then, it don' really matter if they brought their whole damn country, 'cause they can't fight with more'n a few dozen at once."

Ix was the first to speak a voice of concern, "What if they bring bows and wizards? You want us to just stand here?"

Brundir nodded in deep consideration, "Yes, that'll be a problem. But, look back th' way we came. See how it bends 'round this cliff? Our army can stand there an' not worry. Sorry t'say fer th' ones 'ere, but they're th' only ones in danger of arrows. But..." Brundir rode back a few dozen feet to stand in the road's turn between where he stood before and where they came from. "We'll 'ave a block in this 'ere openin', right? Soon as they shoot arrows or charge in, th' block falls back t'ere. This'll narrow down th' target fer archers, an' get more of us in th' fight. And," Brundir pointed upward, "We've got time we can get our own up there with bows. That high up, yer target's anythin' on that side o' this outcrop."

Next was the captain of the Khaz a Gungron infantry, "Don't worry about us, we've got this spot covered. Strong shields an' strong dwarves make arrows fall off like rain. Only problem I see is how d'ye get an army in this pass, then switch out if yer front's gettin' worn down? Not like there's many other places to move around."

Surprisingly, it was Ix who presented the solution, "Ha! Dwarves are such good diggers, but they don't think of digging. My archers will sit up there," he points to the cliff overlooking the bend where Brundir stood, "Then our sappers will stay down there," Ix pointed back up the road from where they came. At the opposite canyon wall, the road bent again towards Sheercleft. The outcropping which signified the front of their battle lines stood to the left as they looked back up the road. "We will dig now, but it will mean we won't have energy to fight. Sorry. But if we do this, then you can surprise them. If they push everyone in here, they won't think of leaving anyone over there!" Brundir stood in amazement as he looked over the idea. It had merit, even if he didn't like the idea of losing capable fighters to exhaustion. Still, the element of surprise could give their levies a chance to move around the infantry doing the heavy fighting and attack the rear.

"Ix, get yer boys 'ere an' let me know how long it'll take."

The fog surrounding Curor’s tent suddenly begins to dissipate as Vark recalls his elemental magic. Inside, the clouds swirl and darken around Pathmaker’s blade , imbuing it with the power of the storm. Vark circles to put the cleric between Val and himself and then lunges, thrusting the spear straight into Riddel’s chest where it connects with yet another explosive thunder burst. The force knocks Riddel unconscious, his limp body bouncing against the indomitable form of Val before falling to the ground. Vark stabs down again with brutal efficiency. “I’m gonna look for that stone Curor had. Grab anything shiny and let’s get out of here.”

The fog surrounding Curor’s tent suddenly begins to dissipate as Vark recalls his elemental magic. Inside, the clouds swirl and darken around Pathmaker’s blade , imbuing it with the power of the storm. Vark circles to put the cleric between Val and himself and then lunges, thrusting the spear straight into Riddel’s chest where it connects with yet another explosive thunder burst. The force knocks Riddel unconscious, his limp body bouncing against the indomitable form of Val before falling to the ground. Vark stabs down again with brutal efficiency. “I’m gonna look for that stone Curor had. Grab anything shiny and let’s get out of here.”

Val glances towards Vark as he rushes off to go look for some rock? She shakes her head at the young half-orc as she focuses on the cleric lying before her and the ever so slight rise and fall of his chest even after the brutal stab wound delivered by Vark and the rapid pooling of blood beneath him. Val knows these are magic men, and magic is tricky... so she lifts Rook up and slams it down onto his head, crushing it into grey and red pulp. A quick glance at him reveals a strange amulet around his neck and just as she starts to reach for it, she notices the two long knives sheathed upon his belt and her hand pauses midway towards his neck. She frowns, thinking it was odd for such weaponry to be with a so called "holy man". She abandons the amulet and instead quickly yanks the belt off the corpse, rolling it over in her haste to loot. With both knives still attached to the belt, she puts it over her shoulder and turns towards Vark. "We should be going. The guards outside likely heard your screaming."

Aiden darts forward through the air, angling his trajectory to line up as many of the siege engines as he can. The air around him crackles with energy as spears bounce off his shield and armor. He pulls the energy into himself until he's full to bursting with lightning, his eyes glowing blue. Filled with lightning and the glory of battle, he joins Thurston in shouting "THOOORRRRRR!" as he looses the lightning on the catapults. It arcs between them, filling the air with the smell of ozone and char. The wood ignites from the heat, and the siege engines begin to burn.

Aiden calls for Thor lighting and it fell from the sky, damaging and burning the catapults. 
With a nod of satisfaction Thurston took a step forwards towards the next catapult and suddenly he felt something hitting his shoulder. A spear bounced against his mithril armor, several more fell around him. 
He swung Rikkazarik in a wide and upward arc as he turned to face his attackers. The mighty hammer broke more spears in mid air as others bounced and broke against his armor. 

He saw several soldiers, reading to fire more spears at him, some with axes or swords, thinking if going against the intruder or don´t. Thurston took a few steps towards them, among the burning catapults. 

"Be aware invaders!!" he shouts to them "The Archanost are upon you!! You should turn back and return to your homes! You cannot harm us and we are not going to let you attack our home! Be gone and save your lives!! For Sheercleft will not suffer more tyrants!!!" 

One of the soldiers, gathering courage or maybe driven by a zealously loyalty took a step forward, wielding a sword and a shield but the Norscan only had to raise his own weapon screaming at him to make him stop and keep the line, letting the ones armed with ranged weapons trying to take down the lighting glowing barbarian. 

Thurston smirked and with another war cry, he turned his back to the soldiers and, and grabbing Rikkazarik with both hands he swung it against another of the catapults, in an upward movement, hitting hard another of the siege machines, making it bouncing, moving it, and taking a great chunk of wood from one of its wheels. 

He looked up to Aiden, to catch his attention. He knew that they don't have much more time and he hopes his friend can burn more of the catapults but he needed to bring to his attention that, after all, he wasn't flying. 

Valaith and Vark feel the temperature around them drop several degrees. The dissipating fog sinks towards the ground to form a layer of mist at ankle height.

Across the camp to the south, Thurston looks up towards the command tent thirty yards away. Through the haze of smoke rising from the catapults that Aiden has set alight, the Norscan sees a tall, muscular man clad in a full suit of dark plate armour stride out of the shadowy interior. Mist billows up around the bearded warrior as he steps forth, lowering a helmet down onto the dome of his shaven head. Two brilliant points of red light shine from his eyes, which are fixed directly on Thurston.

Four heavily armoured guards stand ready outside the cluster of tents, awaiting their leader's orders.

"Find Curor," Valaith and Vark hear him tell his retinue. Vark recognises the voice as that of Sir Marcellus who spoke to him during his vision through the Aureaonus's crystal ball. His intonation is deep, with a strange, other-worldly reverb to it. "This one is mine."

"Yes, my lord," replies one of the warriors, turning and cautiously enter the remains of the ruined tent. "They're here!" His partner cries as they come face to with Valaith and immediately move to attack, but the giantess skilfully casts their strikes aside with the haft of her maul.

Two others hurry to the other side of the ruined tent ambush Vark through the hole that he sliced with Pathmaker. Their thrusts are fast and precise, leaving the sorcerer hard pressed to fend off the assault. Fortunately, Larkin steps in at the at the last moment to cast the fourth blow aside.

Vark takes 33 piercing damage, reduced to 26 by DR.

Jex lifts his bow as he passes between the tents, letting loose an arrow at Sir Marcellus. The arrow flies towards his face but a tentacle reaches around to slap it from the air.

The man turns to fix Jex with a stare, but the assassin just smirks and winks back at him before running back between the tents. Marcellus blinks and forgets the rogue even existed, he turns and looks a little stupid in his momentary confusion.

As the catapults burn, Didymus suddenly appears besides Vark.

"We have to go," he announces, unceremoniously. The devil takes the sorcerer by the arm and both vanish in an eruption of hellfire. At that same moment a second burst of flames plumes beneath the trees two hundred feet to the east and the pair appear on the blackened, melted snow.

“Thank you,” Vark pants, heart racing from the surprise assault and Didymus’ rescue. “But I have to go back for the others.” Without another word Vark launches into the sky. He looks across the encampment trying to get a sense of where his friends are, meanwhile Pathmaker glows and crackles in his hands as he draws power from the runestone.

Val turns away from the soldiers assaulting her to see Vark barely holding his own against the two going after him, but before she could rush to his assistance yet again the devil Didymus appears. Before she could say anything more to thank him again for his assistance, he disappears with Vark in a rush of fire to leave Val alone in the middle of an entire army encampment. A colder, deeper fury than anything she has ever felt before this moment settles into her as she silently vows to send that ******* devil back to Hell as soon as she is clear of the encampment. She turns towards the spiritual form of her brother as she looks around to assess her choices. "Any more of you that you could bring to help?" Larkin gives her that look she knew all too well whenever she would ask him an incredibly stupid question, but... even as she prepares herself to launch into a brutal assault on the warriors surrounding her, Val feels an answer to her call for aid from... Rook. 

Shadowy, wispy spirits... dark, evil looking spirits begin to drift out of the blue gem set into the head of Rook and swirl around her in a large radius. The spirits immediately begin to assail the soldiers, draining their life force as they grasp and twist around them. Val stares at her hammer in a mixture of fear and wonderment before she takes the momentary distraction to immediately push towards the opening that Vark had cut. With a wide swing of Rook, she bats aside both the blades of the troops as they try to cut her down in that moment. As she bursts through the tent, another of the soldiers slashes at Val, but she catches the blade on Rook's haft and shoves him back off balance before sprinting off into the dark of the night... into the city of tents... hoping that the booms and fires in the distance would draw their attention enough for her to clear the encampment. 

Archers hurry from their tents, bows at the ready, but none of the arrows manage to puncture Aiden or Thurston's armour.

Aiden looses another bolt of lightning from his position in the air as an arrow hits his chest hard enough to leave a bruise. The catapults were definitely broken, but they could probably be salvaged. Hopefully they could keep the soldiers busy enough that the fire would take care of the rest. His crackling blue eyes trace over to where Thurston was confronting their enemy. Marcellus. Not a man, but a thing...some sort of otherworldly abomination, according to Vark.

A smirk appears under Thurston helmet when he sees Sir Marcellus walking over him 

Knowing that his friends are nearby and that they need the distraction he taunts him. 

"Oh here it is!! The coward!! Bringing an army of beasts towards a peaceful town with women and children. This is how your country helps the ones in need? Where were your army when the hobgoblins raided Sheercleft? Where were your concern?? LIARS!! " he says smashing the catapult once again breaking one of the shafts of the siege machine "You are manipulated by evil wizards and YOU!! " he points the general with Rikkazarik "You are no kingt. You are no general. You are just a rabid dog that they have unleashed. " 

Then a rain of arrows came down him but he ignores them as some bounced of his armor, his eyes fixed on his enemy. 

Sir Marcellus's glowing, red eyes never leave Thurston's as the paladin talks. Slowly, but inexorably, the knight stalks across the snow-covered ground towards the object of his malice. His pace never seems to increase and yet, all too quickly, Marcellus is right in front of Thurston, reaching out with one hand towards the Norscan's forehead.

"Sleep," he murmurs and Thor's chosen crumples snoring to the ground.

The four warriors in Curor's tent hurry to pursue Valaith, surrounding her between the tents of the rank-and-file and harrying her with a series of rapid stabs and thrusts.

Valaith takes 48 piercing damage, reduced to 33 by DR, reduced to 16 by barbarian rage resistance.

Jex watches as Val bursts from the tent, mobbed by 4 guards, he watches with frustration as Marcellus marches on towards Thurston and Aiden out of sight.

One thing at a time. Let's free up Val to help.

Taking the closer option he draws the shortsword from his belt, letting the bow sit in his off hand. Reversing the grip, he spins, back to the tent, thrusting out into the back of the guard that he knows is stood there from memory. He feels a hard connection but has no time to even stop to see how badly it penetrated, already spinning back out of sight, letting the mask do its work.

On the ground below Vark, Didymus disappears in another plume of hellfire.

Vark’s ascent plateaus once he gets high enough to get a vantage, and as he soars towards the battlefield he tries to assess the state of his friends. His eyes search first for Val and find her still being harried by the knights. Power surges within him as he prepares to launch a barrage of suppressing fire, but the looming form of Marcellus framed by orange flames catches his attention. Who is that he is standing over? A pit opens in Vark’s stomach as he spots the glint of light on the wings of Thurston’s helmet. The pit quickly fills in with anger. 

“HEY LITTLE TENTACLE FREAK!” Vark screams at the top of his lungs. “SHEERCLEFT IS COMING FOR YOU, ****ER!”

Val spots the point of a short sword pierce from a tent into the flank of one of the soldiers; Jex... She grins as she turns her attention to the men surrounding her. It was clear now, that even with the support of the spirits, there was no outrunning them. They came here looking for a fight, but what they would find... was death. The Acharnost was upon them, the cold fury of the frozen southlands and any who dared to weather this storm would find themselves erased from the history of the world.

Now in a full fury, Val lets out a primal shout of defiance against these four soldiers as Rook goes high above her head and slams down with a sickening crunch onto the helmeted head of one of the soldiers; his limp body immediately collapses to the ground in a clatter of armor and gore as the black sparks burst from the head of Rook and are absorbed into the black lightning-like marks upon Val's forearms. The few wounds these men had dealt her rapidly began to stitch themselves back together as she turns her attention to the next dead man. She uses the momentum of the downward swing to spin her second strike into a wide, horizontal arc which obliterates the soldier's shield, arm, and armor as Rook crushes the man's ribcage and spine from the sheer kinetic force of the blow. He too collapses with a cry of pain, blood gurgling from his lips as his lungs expel the last breath he would ever take. Once more the black sparks erupt from Rook and now Val stands before them, nearly as strong as she had been just a moment ago. She snarls at the two remaining troops, a thick fog forming the moment it leaves her lips as she turns her full attention to them while the ghostly apparitions swirl around her. "Death has come for you."

"VARK, get Thurston!" Aiden shouts at the incoming half-orc. Aiden swings around in an arc and looses a bright white bolt of lightning at Sir Marcellus. The enemy commander barely moves as the lightning slams into him, tanking the blast and glaring cold eyes up at Aiden. That's right, you bastard. Up here.