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With Kaylan coming to consciousness and surrounded by trusted attendant Valkin’vi women, Khorvalis steps before the sled to help the others. He sidesteps Paer’an to position himself closer to Laurel and the slaves.

“These Depraved, I think they might have been elves once,” Khorvalis tells Laurel as he raises his torch to illuminate the deteriorating mural on the wall. “See! The bell, the green metal… I suspect that corruptive magic is responsible for…”

Khorvalis stops mid-sentence as he spots a Depraved lunging from behind a toppled sled off in the distance. The monster is attempting to back-stab one of his crew-mates, the Redwind’s Master Craftsman.

“GONDOWON, behind you!” warns the druid as he channels an orb of fire and hurls it at his friend’s would-be attacker.

The old man’s aim is off. The ball of flame misses its mark. (Channel Magic – FAILURE)

Before Khorvalis can launch another channel, he is confronted by a trio of grunts emerging from the shadows.

The recently freed slaves desperately wield their pick-axes and chains in a feeble attempt to defend themselves. Khorvalis senses their fear and moves in front of them.

As the first Depraved rush towards them, the old druid waits until the monster is in striking distance.

At the last moment, Khorvalis yells, “For the Light!” The Hierophant then swings his improvised club with conviction. It pulsates with a blinding light as it strikes the attacker. The Depraved struggles to fight the druid's magic but is eventually overcome by its mystic force. The Grunt collapses to the ground, unconscious. (Sleep Attack – SUCCESS, 1 Depraved defeated)

“The time is upon us! You are no longer slaves. You are NOT afraid! Fight for your freedom with me!” Khorvalis rallies the Laurel and the elves behind him.

Fortified with courage and confidence, the elves charge the pair of Depraved before them. The sound of grunts and screams is punctuated with the sound of clanging steel.

The rumble is confusing and hard to follow for the old druid. He raises his torch closer to see the combat’s outcome.

He is elated to see the elves emerge from the melee with but a few scrapes and scratches. And behind them Khorvalis sees the bodies of the two slain Depraved, one’s skull pierced by an axe, the other bludgeoned by a length of chain. (Lead Charge – SUCCESS, 2 more Depraved defeated)

“For the Light! For Freedom!” The elves echo Khorvalis’ chant and celebrate their victory.

Ice covered ground breaks open near one of the walls, a bloodied hand clutching a crude dagger of ice picking at it to widen the hole. Scrambling out of it is Nellie in only ragged socks, shirt, tights, and kilt, a nasty cut on her left temple and bruises about what skin that shows.

Hair some what wild, eyes squinting she sways a bit as she takes in her surroundings. Spotting the flowered crest of her surcoat and the golden sheen of her hammer in some refuse, she rushes to retrieve her items as well as her screwed balance allows. Moving around the spears, she gets to her items. "Bastards have no respect for hard work it seems," she mutters, putting on her armor and throwing her surcoat on over it all.

Just as she manages to finish buckling her belt, a crunch of metal to her left has her ducking under a swung blade even as she lunges up and in with the ice dagger, managing to aim the tip between the ribs and unerringly to the heart. Leaving the blade in, she pushes the slumping Depraved to the floor and crouches to pick up her hammer.

Turning and spotting another Depraved grunt coming her way, she grins widely, eyes sparkling as she rushes forth with a yell, hammer trailing back in one hand. Just as she gets in range, her hand swings her hammer up above her head for her other hand to grasp. With a small hop forward, she brings the hammer down with all her might in a golden flash.

(OOC: Round 1 - Retrieve Gear +1 from now on, Round 2 - Total 13 = Gear +1 Lunge +2 Dice +6 +2 Buff +2, Round 3 - Total 11 = Gear +1 Heavy Overhand Swing +2 Dice +4 +2 Buff +2)

Morgause sees Nellie emerge from the cave floor nearby.

"Another one of us... escaped from solitary confinement," she says to Kami.

"The Depraved will pay for what they have done!"

The Winter Witch sees the Grunts snatch up Bolg's body as they escape on the sled, the books strewn about in their wake.

She angrily screams at her mind-controlled lieutenant, "Get me those books and destroy any Depraved that get in your way!"

(((I will post after work on Monday to ensure Ciicero has had a chance)))

+2 Eater of dead, + 1 G, + 2
Grunt
Heavy swing (+2)
+7 R8
T = 13

R2 TRIP THE DEPRAVED WITH DEAD BODY.

It falls. +1
+5 + 1
R9
6 + 9 = 15


R3
+5
Bash rock (+1)
R8
T= 14

A pack of the Depraved peel off the main combat and do what they like best. They can see the group of soft healers in the back and they think maybe they an get back there.
“You go around the edge of the wall where the light stops. The darkness is our ally” He said.
The group of them kneel behind a small outcropping and looked over the edge. Together the three of drew poison soaked blades. The sound of the battle was furious and the healers hadn’t noticed them. One of them even let put a laugh.
They never saw the thing lurking in the stone. The monster was a friend of darkness as well. In the tide of battle they didn’t smell the putrid stink of meat or blood.
One of them slipped on patch of Ice and put his hand on a stalagmite to steady him. His hand cme back wet with blood as the stalagmite was a massive tooth. The three of them turned their heads slowly and looked at it together.
“Meat.” The thing screamed at them loud enough to crack ice.
They did the only sensible thing. They fucking ran.
The one closest the unending maw didn’t get far. The beast lashed out and grabbed him by his feet and with a heavy swing against the rock the depraved was dead.
The two of them that made it out of the tiny outcropping panicked and ran like they wre on fire.
Out of the miasma of shadows and flickering mirk the body of there fellow slammed into one of them and killed him dead.
The last one turned and ran toward the corridor leading out. The ground was laced with bones and blood. He never saw the rock that his him, crushing his skull flat. The body twitched for a few long minutes as the monster stormed back into the battle.

With glowing pick axe in in hand Phinkis crashes down on one of the near by depraved. There is a load thud as the pick splits it's skull much easier then splitting rock.
Pick axe to the skull. Nuff said. 2+2(buff)+(6+3)=13 Defeated.

Amazed and emboldened by his previous attack the wizard decides to try to and trip the next charging depraved using the pick axe. Phinkis is soon reminded that, while he pretty good at using a pick axe for it's intended use, he is not well versed in martial combat and should probably not try to get too creative. His low swing puts him off balance and the charging depraved easily avoids it. The momentum of the pick and the low angle causes Phinkis to stumble. He tries to catch himself but there is a patch of slick ice where he steps and he slips and falls. On the way down he hits his head hard on a chunk of ice.
Trip the depraved with a pick axe. 1+2(buff)+(1+1)=5 Wounded.

Dazed by the blow to his head Phinkis lays on the ground, anxiously trying to regain his bearings.
No option - no roll.

"What?!?" Gondowon shouts as he whips around at the call of his comrade, Khorvalis. He suddenly regrets doing so and drops to the ground quickly as a blast of fire, intended for the depraved behind him, flies right above the panicked sage. The smell of burnt hair emanates from Gondowon's scalp and he shudders as he stands back up. "U-uh, thanks?!" Gondowon yells to the old druid, unsure whether or not the warning was for the depraved or the missed channel.

Realizing that the blast left his would-be attacker startled as well, the sage rushes to collect his things, knowing he'd be better equipped to aid in combat with proper tools and weapons. As he collects his things, he looks at the spears that make up the now-disabled trap, still bloody after taking Morgause by surprise. He silently thanks his captain for disabling their mechanisms and thus preventing others from being hurt as well. (Collect Gear)

After settling his knapsack on his back, Gondowon scans the room, looking over everyone to see who is worst wounded and not already being tended to. No one seems to be in dire need of his help, however, so he scans the room again to further assess the situation. As he does so, however, he realizes that the depraved that had let him go before is now rushing angrily towards him. The sage draws his sword and grits his teeth, readying himself in a low, aggressive stance. "Come on then!!!" he growls as the depraved swings at him.

As adrenaline kicks in, time seems to slow for Gondowon. Lessons, long forgotten, flood into his brain: words from his mentors, both alive and dead, telling him what to do. He closes his eyes for a split second as he lets Khorvalis's words sink in, along with the techniques taught to him by his friends. When he opens them again he is focused, determined. Gondowon steps and brings his sword down into foe's neck before the monster even had a chance to reach him. The depraved's eyes widen and he chokes on his own blood, gargling as he slides off of the craftsman's sword. (Lunge +2, +1 Gear, +2 Sage Buff Bonus, 5 on Die Roller = 10)

"Hmph. Pass, but just barely. Your footwork is still terrible."

"Shut up, Fringe," Gondowon mutters to no one, choosing to ignore the imaginary voice of his old mentor as he flicks depraved blood off his weapon. He then moves to the middle of the room to join Mahto and readies himself against another depraved. A strange anger overcomes Gondowon and he hefts his sword overhead, using the full weight of the metal to his advantage. He lets out a roar as he brings the sword down into the depraved's head, splitting it open in a fountain of blood. The sage pulls back and dislodges his blade from the monster's skull, panting heavily. (Heavy Overhand Swing +2, +1 Gear, +2 Sage Buff, 11 on Die Roller = 16)

"HOW'S THAT FOR FOOTWORK, YOU BASTARD!!!" Gondowon screams, though somehow onlookers can tell that he's not angry at the depraved...

Zandron finds his eyes drawn to Gondowon's uncharacteristically mighty display of swordsmanship. The master craftsman's footwork was rough, true, but the downward hew and extension showed some training. The style looks familiar, but the Redwind's captain cannot place it. So linear...

Interesting, he notes, eyes narrowing as he neatly parries a blow meant for his throat. For a moment, the elf's attention returns to the pair of Depraved before him

"Thїs їs вesт yoц can do? Boяing." With a flick first from his left blade, then the right, Zandron places a beat upon an opponent's forte, then a diagonal gash along its left neckline. Blood sprays from the wound, coating Zandron's sword. [7+2 from Khorvalis+1 gear+2 critical strike = 12, Defeated]

As the second pauses, perhaps weighing the possibilities of surrender, Zandron raises an eyebrow and hefts his sword in an exaggerated wind-up. The depraved flinches, prompting a laugh from the drunken elf. "Вoo!" he shouts, bugging out his eyes before executing a deep lunge, right sword knocking his opponent's out of its hand, the other impaling to the hilt in the Depraved's chest. [6+2 from Khorvalis+1 gear+2 lunge = 11, Defeated]

Zandron sighs at the lack of excitement. "Тoo єasy," he mourns, before spotting a trio of remaining beasts creeping up upon his druid companion, unseen from behind.

"Khorvalis!" Zandron shouts, and takes off at a sprint as he realizes the ancient Ga'Vinn will not be able to respond in time. His keen eyes spot an ice floe, and the captain takes three hard steps before launching himself into a long, low dive roll. He lands softly at great speed upon the ice, and flies feet-first toward his foes. The first, he kicks between the legs from behind, whizzing between the creatures legs. His blade follows, unseaming the Depraved from rear to front. Little momentum lost, he collides with the second, sending him tumbling down amid a tangle of limbs. With a twist of firm hands, the former Sylvan'dar agent cleanly breaks its neck. Zandron raies his sword and snaps up a leg, knocking the final enemy's knee out from under him. With a yelp, the Depraved realizes only too late where it will fall -- straight upon Zandron's upraised blade. [Slide on the ice like an elven bowling ball: 8-1+2 khorvalis+1 gear = Defeated, 10-3+2 khorvalis +1 gear = defeated, 4+5+2 khorvalis, +1 gear = defeated]

The elf rises a moment later, brushing off his coat. He mutters to himself, "Cґazy." He stumbles, then calls out: "Щe good? Oґ is мore of theм?"

Khorvalis, too distracted by his impromptu celebration with the liberated elves does not see the grunt lunging at him, despite Zandron's warning.

The old druid whips around to see what danger awaits him, but can only make out the whirling feather of a tricorne hat as the Redwind captain begins a daring rolling maneuver over the ice.

Khorvalis pivots to let the rolling swashbuckler by, extending his arms to protect the elven prisoners at his side who are too busy chanting to notice the dazzling display of bravery, agility and down-right showing off.

As Zandron completes his tumbling attack, snapping the Depraved's boil-covered neck, the druid realizes what had happened.

"Thank you, Captain!" Khorvalis says as he helps brush off the dust from Zandron's coat.

The Hierophant scours the room for any remaining grunts or wounded allies and sees his comrade Gondowon in the distance. Although a bit singed, the Master Sage is okay, with a pair of slain Depraved at his feet... Nonetheless, the old druid scratches his head and shrugs at Gondowon in an effort to apologize for his poorly-aimed channel.

"By the Light, I think we have won this battle... no more Depraved remain!" Khorvalis shouts to Laurel and the rest of the party, "The others have been killed, incapacitated or fled down that tunnel of ice..."

He sees Phinkis a few feet away from him, blood seeping from a wound. "Friend, you are injured!"

The druid hobbles his way to Phinkis' direction, his gnarled hands beginning to pulsate with golden light.

That's the last of the 13.

During the battle, Laurel fights like a berserker. You wonder at first if he'll be effective with so much rage. When the battle is over, however, you notice two Depraved strangled by his hands lying in one corner. He seems to have no remorse about killing them in such a personal fashion. When Khorvalis suggests the Depraved were once elves, Laurel shakes his head. "That's impossible. That's just...impossible. How could they be and do this to us?"

Just when the battle seems truly finished, however, three more Depraved burst up from the ground in a shower of ice and dirt. Laurel shouts in fright and swings a pickaxe into the neck of a Depraved trying to grab a young elven girl next to him.

Two advance on the fallen Kaylan, trying to take advantage of his prone position (there you go, Brian, just for you; go at it).

Morgause screams as more Depraved burst from the ground around her, Kami and the waking Lord Kaylan.

She looks at the drawf, "Get up, Kaylan get up!" She motions to Kami, to help her.

As Laurel takes out one of the grunts surrounding them, the Valkin'vi sees Kaylan try to stir. She notices that the drawf is without weapon.

Morgause quickly puts her spear into Kaylan's hands. As she wraps his fingers tight around it's wooden shaft, she does her best to rouse the warrior and bring him to his feet before pulling out a small dagger from her satchel.

Fear fills the Winter Witch's eyes as the two Depraved close in on their position. She desperately steps before Kami and Kaylan in a feeble attempt to keep the grunts at bay.

She extends her dagger in front of her but the Seer's stance is wobbly and unsure. It is clear that she is not a combatant.

The sapphire in the Valkin'vi's forehead fills with a scintillating light, but it's all for show. Morgause hesitates to let loose a spell, lest she forfeit control over the Depraved lieutenant that is off in the distance collecting the mysterious books left behind by Bolg. She knows they are key to understanding what plans the Depraved have in store, or perhaps their pages contain a way to escape these underground mines...

The Depraved grunts are undeterred by the Seer's threatening light show and creep forward, putrid saliva dripping from their maws, claws twitching like dancing swords.

"Damnit, dwarf!" she cries to Kaylan while keeping her eyes transfixed on the pair of assailants before them. "We will not perish this day! Do something!"

Mahto, now covered in blood, stands up - leaving a depraved corpse that had just been pummeled, practically into the ground. He looks over toward the new-found depraved. He takes a step forward, about to pounce - but then stops. He calmly walks over to the pile of equipment. He wouldn't want to spoil Kaylan, and the large group of heroes protecting him, of their fun.

Mahto laces up his armor while watching the battle ensue. He reaches into the pile and pulls out a cloak of bear hide, he treats it like an antique as he dusts of the dirt and throws it over his back, clasping it to his leather armor in front. He digs around a little harder to pull out an odd assortment of necklaces - a pirate's gold, a sharp animal tooth, tsunitar horns, and a couple of other oddities. He straps his off diamond shield on his back and readjusts his armor so he is comfortable. Taking some belts he shabbily straps his trophy, the Hammer of Bolg, onto his back, over the shield. Finally, he reaches for a blade - the steel of which is colored like the sky - on a dusky winter's day - he holds up the blue-leather wrapped hilt to his lips and whispers tenderly to his ancestral sword in an ancient tongue that not even grey-haired Khorvalis or the ancient Zandron understand. He slides The Black Blade into it's frog on his side and turns to see how his companions are doing...

Nell's head whips around at Morgause's shout from where she'd been cleaning the gore off of her hammer. Even knowing she'll be too late, Nell runs towards Kaylan's position, memories of Kaylan taking the full brunt of a mighty lightning bolt flashing in her minds eye.

She may not get there in time to waylay them, but she can damn well wreck retribution on their hides.