Penny

Tyrants of Illiac Bay

“Yeah, no problem,” Delphine croaked as she pulled herself to her feet the pain in her ribs firmly informing her they would really rather she didn’t. The goblin’s words seemed like insane gibberish. Jaque was dead wasn’t he? Unless the goblin meant someone else, and how many Jaques was a goblin warlord likely to know? Placing aside such academic concerns she moved on to the practical ones which were, unfortunately, numerous. Her sword was still lodged between the ogre’s shoulder blades and driven so deeply into the beast that it would take a veritable sacred king to retrieve it. She still had her bow but her arrows had been scattered from the quiver at some point in her ogre inspired gymnastics. Her magicka too was sadly depleted and she reached into her pouch to withdraw her last mana potion. The shards of glass cut her fingers and she jerked her hand back, finding it bleeding from new cuts and covered with spilled potion.

“Oh come on!” she whined the unfairness of it all seeming momentarily worse than the deadly peril. She touched her hand to Amal’s back and incanted, forcing the last dregs of her power to restore his body and energy, her fingertips sparking as the spell fizzled and died after a few seconds. The goblin threw back its head and charged iron axe held high. Amal stepped to the side to meet it and Delphine drew her knife. It wasn’t a weapon for fighting, just a simple knife for cutting herbs. As a weapon it ranked pathetic which was still a considerable improvement on nothing. She ducked and the fist of the goblin as it reached her and drove the blade down into its thigh between greave and hip, the dull point biting only a few inches. The goblin kicked her in the stomach driving the wind from her and sending her tumbling across the room to hit the corpse of the ogre, covering her in a mix of its spreading blood and dust in the process. She could hear the sound of weapons clashing, although it was possible it was just the ringing in her ears. It would be so very nice just to lay down here and catch her breath she thought but the sight of her spilled arrows a few feet away convinced her to dig deep and crawl over to the pile of fletched staves. She unslung her bow and knocked an arrow turning to see Amal’s saber flashing as he battered away the axe, weaving a complex web of steel with his blade. Delphine’s hands trembled with pain and exhaustion as she drew back the bow. Praying to Dibella that she didn’t hit Amal she didn’t so much loose the shot as lose control of her fingers. The arrow arced across the cavern and hit, bouncing off the iron currais with an audible but very unedifying click. Amal feinted and made a savage cut, the goblin screamed as green fingers flew from the goblins off hand. The beast headbutted the redguard and sent him staggering back against the cavern wall. Wailing with homicidal glee it followed, catching Amal by the throat. The redguard lifted his boot and kicked down hard, driving the sole into the hilt of Delphine’s knife with a horrible squelching sound. The goblin howled and staggered backwards, letting Amal go and dropping its axe. It tore the knife free but blood was gouting from the wound, pouring down its leg.

“Jaque! Curse you!” it screamed, then pitched forward onto its face in the dirt, the knife clattering free of it’s hand to roll across the stone floor. Delphine’s arrow hit it in the side of the head, though the corpse didn’t so much as flinch.

“Still counts,” Delphine said before falling onto her ass in utter exhaustion.

Tyrants of Illiac Bay

The noise and dust were enormous and Delphine threw an arm up to shield her mouth and nose. Her sinuses flared and her eyes burned with the grit that swirled around her like a whirlpool. Rocks ground together and tumbled in an avalanche, eating away the floor of the cavern like water on a sandcastle. Delphine scrambled backwards putting her back to the wall of the cavern and bracing herself to fall. Nothing happened and as the dust began to clear she could see the jagged edge of the rock had left a ledge of about three feet. Cursing, she made a circular gesture with her hand and conjured water into the air. The dust fell from the air in a shower of muddy rain that spattered across the cavern below. Her eyes widened as she saw the ogre and her bladder tightened in yet another unnecessary suggestion that she relieve herself. The creature lumbered forward roaring out a cone shaped spray of spittle as it swiped at the thief. Amal ducked under the blow and gashed it with his knife, skittering away to the side. Delphine was momentarily frozen as she tried to decide how she could help. It seemed unlikely that her bow would pierce the hide of such a beast, or reach anything vital if it did. Perhaps throw her sword down to the Redguard? Chancy if he didn’t catch it, or if he went for it and it gave the ogre the opening to smash him to jelly.

“Julianos if you are in your Heaven…” she muttered, then lifted her left hand and chanted. A fist sized rock lifted from the pile and flew across the chamber to smash into the ogre’s back, then another, then another. With her free hand Delphine pulled a bottle from her satchel, uncorked it with her teeth and drained the contents. It tasted like pine tar and seaweed, neither of which was an ingredient, but she choked it down with the practiced skill of an alchemist. Energy surged and dozens of rocks volleyed into the ogre's back, some bigger than her head. The brute howled and turned to swat at this unseen assailant only to be struck in the face and neck by the torrent of flying stones. One stuck it on the nose was a crack that was audible even over the cacophony of crashing rock and splattered blood on the cavern wall. One hit the things knee with a splintering of bone and the beast howled so loudly Delphine worried it might start a second cave in. Triumph surged in Delphine even though the spell was rapidly draining her reserves of power. She fumbled for another potion but before she could unstopper it, the ogre lifted one hand to shield its face, a gesture reminiscent of someone shading their eyes against a bright light. One of its eyes was leaking jelly where a rock had shattered the orbit, but that didn't stop the ogre from plucking a boulder the size of an ale barrel from the air and then hurling it at Delphine. The mage’s eyes widened and she lifted her hand changing the spell to form a shield in front of herself, if she could just… The rock hit her with the strength of a charging horse and smashed her from her feet, her shield disintegrating under the impact. The cavern wall smashed into her back and she fell on her stomach gasping in lungfuls of dust which was less than helpful. Another rock shattered above her but she was out of the line of sight. Something was broken in her chest and everything tasted of blood but she managed to mouth the words of a restorative spell. She screamed as something snapped back into place inside of her then spewed blood all over the wall to clear it from her lungs. Very ladylike, very demure. Unsteadily she forced herself to her feet and peeked down. Amazingly, Amal was still worrying the thing with his dagger, darting in to strike at hamstrings and groin before leaping back before the brute could backhand him into oblivion. It was clear that the knife, pun very much intended, was not cutting it, the thick hide turning most of the blows aside. Amal could probably have stabbed it with the point, but risked losing his knife and only doing superficial damage.

“The sword!” Delphine shouted, the effort hurting her lungs despite the restorative spells best efforts. She pointed to where the sabre lay, its hilt uncovered by her impromptu rockstorm. Amal’s eyes flicked to it and he tried to circle, but the ogre must have seen it too and smashed a fist down to prevent the redguard from running for it. Great, they had to run into the only genius level ogre in High Rock. A distraction was needed, but Delphine’s reserve of magicka was spent. Perhaps she could throw lantern oil down on it, but then how would she light it? Burning cloth in the bottle neck? There was no time for arts and crafts. There was no time for anything. Before fear could freeze her up Delphine reversed her grip on her sword, took a deep breath, and leaped into the hole. There was a moment of buyers remorse and then she was plunging downwards, her lips screaming what she hoped was an impressive warcry and not a screech of abject terror. The point of the blade hit the ogre just left of the spine and Delphine triggered the enchantment. With her entire weight behind it, the steel plunged into the things back, burying itself crossguard deep. Delphine slapped against the warty back of the thing, holding onto the sword for dear life. The creature reared back, swatting and grabbing but unable to quite reach her as it shook its shoulders like a dog trying to dislodge a tick. Pain exploded in her shoulders as she was wrenched this way and that and her hands went white with the force of her grip as she desperately held on, hoping that Amal was making the most of her insane distraction.

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

I think im going to train (I'd like to get leaf on the wind) id also like to talk to the ur-bot we took from Cho with a view towards maybe doing something crafting related.

Tyrants of Illiac Bay

Delphine waited in a crouch while Amal advanced. The nauseous vapors of the place were now mixing with adrenaline and her stomach roiled. The pressure grew in her belly and bladder and there was a cold coppery taste in her mouth. She had her sword in her hand, the space was too close to use her bow easily and there would be no time to draw it if anything went wrong. Amal’s throne chair was her queue. Despite the fear that she would freeze her body sprang into action, carrying her halfway across the room before the shaman could turn. The creature spun around, throwing up a magical shield in panic. A disgusting smell seemed to vent from it and its lips pulled back across its rotted teeth in a snarl. Delphine smashed her sword against the shield and it shattered in a spray of sparks, the impact jarring her wrist. The goblin skipped back, the shield slowing the blade just long enough to avoid having its head cleaved in two. It lifted both its hands, lightning wreathing them from elbow to wrist. Delphine screamed her own spell, feeling confidence fill her as the magicka flowed, then drove her fist into the shaman’s paunchy belly. The spell crackled out of the touch and the goblin’s chant cut off as its lungs and chest were frozen in paralysis, its lips worked soundlessly and its eyes widened in shock as Delpine thrust the tip of her sword through its sternum with a satisfying crunch. Remembering to twist her blade she withdrew it, the feeling of triumph momentarily tainted by the gurgling gush of foul smelling blood. The greenskin stood still in shock, looking down at the gore spreading across its rounded paunch. Delphine hacked into the goblin’s neck, partially severing it and sending the body sprawling, there was no point taking chances when it came to mages, before whirling and lifting her blade in a guard.

Amal was holding his own against the surviving two goblins. She lifted her left hand and thrust her palm forward chanting rapidly. A pale pink orb leaped from her palm and stuck the back of the nearest goblin, there was an acrid scent and the goblin screamed, dropped its bone, and leaped onto its companion, tearing and biting in blind magicka fueled frenzy. Delphine kept her distance, unwilling to risk another spell with Amal so closely engaged and unwilling to crowd the Redguard’s blade in narrow quarters. She fought to keep her breathing under control, exhilaration burning through her in place of her earlier fear. Most of her fighting had been done on the practice field or sparring with her friends, and the few times she had drawn her blade in earnest had been settled peacefully. This was the real thing though, and she thought she had acquitted herself well so far.