Ereworn Under The Shadow

"Whaaa?"

Jack is entranced for what seems like a long moment where everything goes into slow motion. The running white horse, the wind through its mane, the shining light of the sun off the horn on the head.

Then in an instant everything went back to normal with the approach of evil. Only something evil would want to cause harm to that lovely white creature.

Jack moves to flank Barn flexing his fingers and takes up a stance of violence.

Smiling Jack gets in a position to protect Jacks flank as well and tries to hide in the foilage.

Ardwynn was gobsmacked at the sight of the near glowing, white, horned horse. 
A few moments of stunned staring and she audibly slammed her gape-ing jaw shut. 

"Not on my watch," she whispered as she worked her Ways.

Silent Image

As best she is able,  Wynn manipulates the energies of the World and Wood to create an image of that stunning creature.   60 feet away and in a direction radically opposite of the direction the creature had been running.   Though it does not carry scent or sound, she hopes she can at least delay the 'Hunt' for a few precious moments; giving the white horse time to lengthen it's lead.

Galaren stops breathing, shocked by the majestic being. He will attempt to stand with the party, and cast Sanctuary on the celestial creature. 

"This must be an omen. We cannot let harm come to that marvelous specimen!"

Since some of his companions seem to be joining him, Barn does step well away from the bushes in which some of his companions are still hiding to take up a defensive stance directly in the path of the oncoming hounds to protect the white horse (while not giving away his friends' hiding spot).

Unless of course the hounds are distracted by Ardwynn's clever illusion, which would be even better, as the big man has no wish to harm dogs.

The Recluse hid further in the hovel the group had found. He was okay with avoiding dangers and confrontation with an unknown adversary. He noticed Barn’s indecisive movements at first silently cussing for the man to stay hidden. He hoped the group wouldn’t be noticed. And he was surprised at Ardwynn’s own diversion, he thought the group might escape unscathed.

But then the big man and the others stood, making them noticeable opponents to whoever was hunting the majestic horned horse. Perhaps the hounds would still be too focused on their quarry to be troubled with the group. But he expected  the worse. Why had they sought shelter and a scent distracting deception if they were only going to tangle with an unknowable force. The foolishness of youth, if they each lived to see their twentieth winter he’d be surprised. 

So, he stayed down, perhaps 15’ away from the three guarding the path the horned horse just ran down. Ardwynn’s illusion heading in a different direction, his own witch lights bobbing in a third. He waited to see what accompanied the pack of hounds, hoping it wasn’t the mythical Wild Hunt of legends.  

Ardwynn is pleased with how well her 'horned white horse at a distance' illusion turned out. 

Distracted by movement seen out of the corner of her eye, she realises the rest of her companions are standing up and stepping into stances that seemed to imply they were preparing to battle the approaching hunters and hounds.   Practically popping up like flower stalks in the middle of the bramble they were supposed to be hiding in.    Wynn bit her tongue before speaking something unwise.  Instead she came up with a viable fix.... she hoped.

Settling herself in mind and body, Ardwynn began a chancey gambit.  Using Silent Image she stopped making her 'white horse at a distance' and created a thick expanse of bramble which would hide her standing companions from view.  Then she swapped back to 'white horse'.  Then to 'thick bramble'.  Back and forth.  Here and distant.  Flickering like a dying torch, the magic energies manifest as a stroboscopic flurry of silent visions. Ardwynn's silhouette of a ghostly white horse appearing and disappearing between distant trees instantly bleeding into the impenetrable, thorny darkness of a close-up thicket.

The rapid shift oscillates with mesmerizing effect as Ardwynn pushes herself, a trickle of sweat slides down her forehead.  The pulse repeats at an unrelenting tempo. White horse. Dark thorns. Distant light. Close confinement.  The phantom horse serves as a visual beacon, drawing pursuers' eyes outward and away from her companions' true coordinates, while the alternating flash of protective brush roots her mind firmly in the present danger, providing cover for herr allies.

CON check: 10  >>>  (( Heroic Inspiration used to reroll ))   >>>  CON check: 15