Brundir spurred Stonebrow forward, and the great boar heaves through the allied lines. With a cry from the armoured rider, the Sheercleft ranks part to give wide berth. The furious charge did little on the grand scale, but it helped to bolster the morale of those nearby at least. In spite of arrows above and the ravening horde before them, the Sheercleft line held. Brundir wheeled Stonebrow around while cleaving down a furry head nearby. The great boar's mass was, luckily, a source of apprehension for the gnolls as they were hesitant to try stopping a larger version of something that could maim them on a whim. Stonebrow heaved, stamped, and gored once more to return to the dwarven lines. Now back behind his allies' shields, Brundir raised his sword high and swung it to the block's right flank, "Sheercleft! Front ranks hold, rear right!" A wave of echoing voices carried the command across the ranks.

Several rows back, the block shifted. Dwarves in the rear took up positions on the right flank, and when it came time for the forward ranks to move, those now positioned on the right placed themselves in between the gnolls to prevent their immediate reprisal. A veteran force may have done it cleaner, but the majority of the dwarves were able to fall into their new position without panic. Now repositioned, Brundir wheeled his sword in the air toward the Khaz a Gungron attachment, "Aiden, Vark! Now!" He wasn't sure they heard him, but he was sure the opened alley of attack was a clear enough sign.

"Highshields, forward!" Aiden cries, and the dwarves oblige him with a thunderous shout. A wall of dwarven steel moves forward and the disorganized gnoll formation disintegrates. Dwarven axes and spears work with deadly efficiency. Any of the creatures who don't flee are stabbed, felled, and trampled by the onslaught. 

The Naked Guard were anxious behind hum. Thurston could feel his own expectation to enter combat. But his training kicked in and he knew that battles are won by trusting your commander's orders and truting your allies to follow the strategy. Val's forces charged forward... once again the impetuos woman won him in the battlefield. He smirk, he had no problem with that but in this case they should play smart. 

He saw the levis of Sir Marcellus moving to flank Val's forces so he orderder the Naked Guard to move and protect her flank. 

"Let's go Naked Guard! let's show them how to fight!!" 

Vark is no leader, and certainly has no intention of telling these trained archers how to do their job. But with the best ranged capabilities of the Acharnost it makes sense for the sorcerer to remain here at the back of Sheercleft’s forces atop a ridge, a clear view of the battlefield below him. And though he intends to let the archers do what they do best, as he waits for the battle to commence an idea for how to assist the unit does pop into his head.

It starts slow at first, a barely perceptible mist that seems to rise from the snowy ground. It’s warm, humid, with the faint whiff of ozone. Only some of the archers take notice, pointing it out to their compatriots in confusion until one or two standing closest to Vark finally notice the low chant he’s begun, a sound like distant rumbling thunder rolling from his mouth. Wisps of the cloud-stuff whirl slowly around the men and women and strangely seem most attracted to their weapons, settling on the bows and arrows like morning dew. The sounds of battle and falling stone crash below them, and the archers can pay no more attention to whatever arcane scheme Vark is hatching. They notch their arrows, take aim…

“Vark! Now!” Bründir’s own thunderous voice bellows out, miraculously carried up to  Vark and the archers above. In that instant the half-orc rises suddenly into the air, head tossed back and eyes flaring ruby red. That same ruddy light pulses through the cloud he has conjured as crimson lightning crackles this way and that through the archers. The bolts strike the bows in the archer’s hands, inscribing tiny glowing runes everywhere they land. The runes flare just before the archers let loose, and every eager arrowhead erupts into blood hued flame. As spectacular as the effect is, the hail of fire proves easy to spot, and Marcellus’ archers are already ducking back behind cover after their own volley when the burning rain falls.

“Again! Don’t let up!” Vark shouts, still hovering slightly and crackling with power as he maintains the enchantment. The archers get it now, and many smile as they ready another shot…

Matteo watches the horseman riding between the lines, springing from stone to stone as he tries to make his move. Then the horse turns though and all Matteo can see is the dust kicking up from the advancing troops. Behind he sees the impessive (in some cases) sight of Thurston's Naked Guard also charging to the gap.

They are going to be too slow, I'll never make it through.

Then another thought reaches him.

I'm trapped, I can't be stuck on the lines or I'll never get free to end this.

Only one option remains, he leaps left, pressing himself against the rocks as the two lines meet, he pulls the mask down over his face for more protection as shields clash and the two groups probe each other's defences. 

Idiot.

Jex is able to slip through between them, unnoticed save for the odd glance until a moment later and even the memory of the half-elf running perpendicular to the battle fades. He climbs the remaining ridgetop, observing the swirling frost and the ghostly presence below.

Val, he's coming. I'm here.

He watches the approaching horse, timing his run across the stones, no longer a care for getting Marcellus quickly alone, now his hunter's instincts take over. He crouches down and grips the bow, waiting for the perfect moment to take the horse from beneath the rider.

As the Cambrian levies clash with Thurston's Naked Guard, Sir Marcellus's archers turn their bows on the Norscan's hand picked cadre. Arrows rain from above, but their Norscan commander is ready for such tactics.

"Tuck tail!" Thurston bellows just in time for his men to raise their shields against the oncoming barrage.

On the other side of the pass, the Cambrian infantry charge into the breach with a roar, following up behind the broken company of Gnolls. Unlike the feral gnolls or the massed peasant levies, these are true soldiers armed and trained with weapons of war. Many Dwarves fall to the onslaught, but the Highshield line holds.

Galloping up alongside the advancing infantry comes a rider clad in blackened steel sat upon a pale horse - Sir Marcellus. His steed barrels towards where Valaith leads the advance of Sheercleft's guard towards the flank of the Cambrian troops and barely audible eldritch whispers emanate from the knights helmet. Their eyes entranced by a fell light, the men of Sheercleft turn their weapons towards the giantess.

Valaith holds her ground as Marcellus rides up to her astride his pale stead, she curses as his eldritch powers bewitch the soldier under her command. "This is between us, leave them out of this!" She shouts as she takes one, long step towards her enemy with Rook already whistling through the air. Her towering size helps bring her closer to Marcellus' mounted height as Rook slams hard into him and rocking him back in the saddle. Val watches in satisfaction as the soldier who had just about to turn their weapons against her shake themselves from his influence. "Drive them back, men of Sheercleft!" She swings her weapon again, with satisfaction as the weapon hammers Marcellus' armor once more! "I hope whatever foul master you serve rips your soul into shreds when we send you to him!" 

The Sheercleft guards rally behind Valaith, taking their battle to the soldier surrounding Marcellus and leaving the captains to duel each other, but the stupor that had just claimed them, left them staggered and they failed to make any headway against these trained soldiers! 

Bründir's sword raises high as he spurs Stonebrow forward, "Drung, Stonebrow! DRUNG!" Allied dwarves - those of Sheercleft and Khaz a Gungron - parted as the mighty beast picked up speed. The Cambrians, however, were not so wary. Stonebrow slammed the front ranks, punching a hole through the shield wall. The Sheercleft defenders flooded the breach made by their commander to give him space, and Bründir spurred the massive boar towards Marcellus himself. In a flash, the boar clear the space as fearful soldiers jumped to safety. Stonebrow ducked, then rose in a flash. His tusks caught Marcellus' horse under its stomach, and the great Dwarven battle-beast heaved its foe upward.

Bründir was reminded wby Stonebrow's saddle cost so much now. On impact, he jumped forward in the saddle, his chest catching on a board not typically found on horse saddles. It was clear this was a common method of attack for Dwarven boars, and being thrown on impact was common enough. The dwarf reflexively ducked, though, as Marcellus' horse rose up against him, mangled by Stonebrow's tusk. The horse was a bloody mess as it was thrown up and forward. When Stonebrow finally stopped, Bründir could see Marcellus rising from behind the horse.

"Listen, ya uppity, monstrous c***. I'm Bründir Halfshield, Lord of Sheercleft." Bründir raised his blade high in defiance of the Cambrian lord. "Mountain Law: Half given, twice returned. We've taken equal score, now leave 'fore we take our int'rest!" A surge of authority sprang forth from the dwarf. He whirled his blade overhead, signalling all Sheercleft soldiers to give no quarter. 

The highshields are battered by the Cambrian infantry, but unbroken. Without Aiden's prompting, they regroup and push back against the opposing force. Aiden pushes through a few members of the infantry and signals for the highshield commander to move to the second phase of the plan.

Aiden joins Val and Bründir as they attack Marcellus. Rather than engage directly, the cleric hangs back. A few muttered words in Norscan summons a torrent of lightning that spirals around him. The lightning spirits dance around Sheercleft's allies, but tear through any of the enemy forces that come near -- as well as Marcellus.

Spying Marcellus riding towards his allies, Vark launches into the air, speeding away from the kobold archers who are already raising bringing red bows to aim. He coasts above the rugged terrain until he is within range of the general. Slowing to a hover, glares down at Marcellus and begins an incantation, speaking infernal words of ire that cause crimson runes to appear briefly around his target before his mutterings change in tone. Now runes appear around him, primordial symbols that circle around Pathmaker’s tip before flaring brilliant cyan as a bolt of lightning streaks straight through Marcellus. Where the lightning touches the eldritch warrior it flares red, and where it tears through his men behind him it leaves smoldering bodies in its wake.

Meanwhile the kobolds fire. This time their flaming bolts find their targets, and ruby flames begin to spread around the enemy archers’ position.

Seeing both Val and Bründir engaging Marcellus, and with his main goal to prortect Val's unit complete, Thurston orders the Naked Guard to attack, and they made the valkyries proud and Odin turned his eye towards them, as they fell down Marcellus soldiers and decimated them in a rage attack. 

Spinning Rikkazarik, Thurston leaped in the air, crossing the battelfield as fast as he could towards their captain nad his riends. 

As Jex tracks the horses movement, waiting for a clear shot, he flinches a second as Brundir rides his hog in and takes it down. Taking advantage though he lets loose an arrow that lodges deep into Marcellus' armour.

Funny, no tentacles this time. Jex thinks hard as he picks his way further down the mountain, taking care to stay out of sight.

Could be a decoy, best to keep an eye out 

An armoured silhouette rises in the dust cloud left after Stonebrow toppled Sir Marcellus's warhorse, twin points of red light shining from within the knight's helmet. A hand reaches out towards Valaith and the giantess is engulfed in flame, even as fell whispers ring in her ears, bringing with them visions of a tentacled alien terror from beyond the stars. Her senses bewitched, the barbarian is overcome by panic.

Slowly, the helmet turns once more to fix its crimson gaze on Aiden and the divine power that the cleric wields. As their eyes meet, Aiden can feel the force of the Star Knight's will as Sir Marcellus tries to break his invocation of Thor, but to no avail.

Stepping forwards over the corpse of his fallen steed, the knight turns his focus on Bründir. Frost flares around the blade of Sir Marcellus's sword as he draws it, ready to face the dwarf's own blade.

Brundir spurs Stonebrow forward once more, but Marcellus retreats a step behind his fallen horse. The obstacle makes for clumsy footing, and Stonebrow is forces to turn its momentum around the corpse. Brundir, however, was not deterred. He brought Dumdrengi down hard, but the blade met Marcellus' own sword without effect.

Thurston grits his teeth, flying as fast as he could over the fighting forces of Sheercleft and the hotile Cambrians, he could feel the frustration growing in his chest... he would have been alongside the Naked Guard, fighting with them, but he knew that abomination, Sir Marcellus, was the key of all and it should be destroyed... but it was still too far away, already fighting his friends. He saw how the two blades clashed, sending blue and red sparks above the dwarf and the towering figure of the Star Knight. 

Thurton launched himelf upwards, to obtain a better view and angle and with a scream he put all that frustration and anger into his mighty hammer. Throwing it directly at Sir Marcellus's head. 

Crossing the air leaving a trail of sparks of blue lighiting on his wake, Rikkaarik flew true and impacted the Star Knigh. The thunder eploded as it impacted and for a second even Brundir was blinded by the white and blue flash that filled the air when the hammer hit his foe. 

As Rikkazarik's flew back to Thurston's hand the Archanost could see its figure standing once more. 

"I do not care how many times I need to hit you!!" roared Thurston "I will end you today!!" 

Following Thurston's lead, Aiden focuses and blasts forth a torrent of holy fire. Marcellus sees it coming and braces himself, letting the energy wash over his armored chest and head.

What the would-be conquerer failed to see was Aiden's follow-up: a conjured hammer, crackling with lightning, aimed directly for Marcellus's chin. The hammer hits with a bone-rattling smash, and the Knight's helmet flies free of his head, revealing a sweat-slick shaved head and furious eyes.

The Acharnost are winning, blessed storm and steel wearing down the Star Knight blow by mighty blow. Part of Vark wishes to dive into the melee himself as the adrenaline pumps through his body, but he knows it’s best for him to hang here in the sky out of reach. So he focuses that rage into Pathmaker’s crystalline blade and swings it once, then twice, each time lobbing bolts of searing red magic. The projectiles collide together catching Marcellus in an explosion of hellish sparks. It’s a powerful hit… but is it enough?

Sir Marcellus bellows furiously in the face of the Acharnost's onslaught. Rikkazarik sends the Cambrian general staggering even as he bats the flying hammer away — the first time that Sheercleft's heroes have seen the Star Knight in anything but perfect equilibrium.

"Rebel scum," the man snarls as he shifts to allow his blackened armour to absorb the radiant energy of Aiden's guiding bolt. "It's time you learned your place-"

The cleric's spiritual weapon cuts Marcellus off mid-sentence and, as the general recovers from the blow to the chin, it is clear that blood has been drawn. He spits and dark ichor spatters across the snowy rocks.

"Naive fools," the man rants as the Acharnost close in on him from all sides. "You are nothing. Mere ants in the face of-"

Vark's eldritch blast strikes the knight high on his chest, knocking the armoured figure backwards off his feet and sending him sprawling across the mountainside in a cloud of dust. For a brief moment it seems as though it might all be over... and then something begins to move. Limp like a ragdoll, Sir Marcellus's body rises into the air, supported by several thick stalks that seem to be protruding from his back. As the dust clears, it becomes apparent that the ruby explosion has removed most of the man's lower jaw. Instead, a writhing mass of thin tentacles dangles from where the mouth once was. The appearance is not unlike that which Vark saw through Aureaonus's crystal ball.

“NO!!” Vark shouts, but the word is lost in the deafening CRACK that is his voice. The intent however is clear as Vark thrusts both arms forward as if he is trying to slam Pathmaker’s shaft into the aberration. This time the lightning bolt surges out of his chest, racing down his arms and lancing Marcellus’ puppet of a corpse below. To Vark’s dismay, he watches as some of the energy grounds through the thing’s tentacles, and he quickly shouts to his companions, “He’s resistant to lightning!”

Seeing the genreal of the invading army reveal his twisted form gives Thurston some relief. That is not an unfatomable cosmic horror that he cannot fight. That is a creature of bone, flesh and blood that he and his friends can fight.. and kill. And he wonders what would happen to his troops now that he has shown his true colors. 

Then Vark hits him with lighting again and sends a warning. 

"Then we kill it the old way my friend... And kill him we shall... " he grins as he launches himself forward towards him.