After all the disaster of the previous session - in which our hastily assembled team accidentally stealthed our way into the middle of a three pronged pincer with a giant, and a sorceress, and Amun Tor knows what else - we started this one off BADLY. Like, no front line to speak of, wounded all around, and deeply disappointing to our gods. Our Halfling was prone and in reach of a giant's hammer, and my thief had just been resuscitated by Osto the cleric, at great cost to Osto's own safety, re: the giant's hammer. Crawling away for a turn was all we could do at first, but I had a plan left over from last session.
For her part, Dissý, Elven agent of the Winter Princess, was in the process of flying away on the results of a patron intervention, but immediately took a spear shot to the kidney right before she could escape. With 1 HP, it was all she could do on her following turn to immediately spellburn, and invoke Lady Silveren's frosty wrath once again. This time with an emphasis on wrath. Between her own burnt offerings, and a few luck bonuses from our beleaguered Halfling companion, Aldo Jr., I was able to summon an avatar of the East Wind, the Great Moose! It's breath turned Dissý's spilling blood into mist as arctic air formed, and blasted the scene in immobilizing ice. That and the timely arrival of Donkey the Unlucky and Glyphera of the Grey Wastes gave us the momentum to swing the battle around. Nobody could seem to remember why the initial plan had required them to act as backup? Seemed silly in hindsight, all characters agreed, in character.
With two priests of Amun Tor on hand now, even the riddles of Elfland couldn't dissuade the much needed divine magic from restoring mind and body, and reinvigorated, the group fought back hard. Frozen to the floor, even the mighty Firbolg enforcers of the sorceress couldn't break free, and could scarcely defend themselves. Donkey and Aldo Jr. cut them down one by one, a whirl of deadly axes the pair! Yet another foul elf was impaled with Aldo's new signature weapon, the Unicorn Horn! Meanwhile my other character, Mardove the Boxman, set up some barriers to slow down Unseelie reinforcements. Copious iron spikes deployed to stay shut the doors between us and the rest of the tangled madhouse of the court. It would last until the incoming foes decided to destroy the doors, which was enough time to be worth it, I wagered.
Behind the other set of doors, the Elven sorceress found herself distracted by the swinging hammer of her rebelling Dwarven captive, but the two were an even match in close quarters, dodging and interrupting, weaving incantations and insults. Having returned to normal size just in time to be frozen to the floor, the once magically giant bodyguard of the sorceress ¹fell before us as we charged into the forge chamber. We had to try and rescue that captive smith, now known to us as Fimbulfombe, and either make a stand, or at least escape Elfland alive. At this point it was a matter of Dwarven honor for Donkey. We'd been ²forced to leave another Dwarven captive behind the first time we fled the court, you see.
Dissý exchanged terse words with her Unseelie counterpart, whose own patron granted her blustering winds and levitation powers. Fimbulfombe had lost their melee when a sleep spell finally slipped through his mental defenses, and the sorceress had him aloft, with a dagger to his throat. She said "Intrude no more in the Court of my Prince, or else the Dwarf dies!"
Thoroughly unimpressed, Dissý just looked her stone in the eyes and replied "as all mortal things do." And she rushed in, mithril sword poised, drawing full attention to herself, but OOH SNAP ACTUALLY IT WAS A ³FEINT! Just then, Glyphera jumped up from behind and domed that witch with a sick-radical magic flail! She hit the anvil on the way down, and died like a chump. We tossed her evil magic bag in the forge fire, and I gave her ephemeral shell a dismissive "catch you next cycle, sister."
We had time for a once over. Fancy key, some gear we quickly threw on Fimfom, a laying of hands each for the Amun Torites, Glyphera and Osto. But the door Mardove had sealed was splintering, and she'd barely gotten within attention-getting distance of the group to warn them when the doors flew apart. Mardove, somewhat cut off but possibly still hidden, made the pragmatic decision to retreat. She'll be setting up an ambush I figure. Good shot, and has a silver arrow on hand, that could make a mean backstab attack if I play her cards right. Still, the chaos trail is pointing toward the rest of the party, and we've left off in showdown formation; our ragtag squad of scoundrels, propped up on fumes and prepared to make the lastest of stands, vs the Prince of the Unseelie Court, and his attendants. We're not getting paid enough to do this.
¹ I mean he literally fell before us. He made a desperate attack with his huge maul, critically missed, and rolled a fumble result that knocked him prone. While his legs were encased in magic ice. So the GM ruled that he'd managed to shatter off his own legs, and died.
²Though frankly, he'd alienated the whole party with his insane religious babbling about elves needing salvation to escape the cycle of rebirth, or something? Really, just nonsense. The most probable cause of the Elven court being widdershins as it is. Stupid meddling mendicant.
³I missed, Dissý is terrible at swords, and she's been burning strength to keep spells going.
