The party met with Daya and was tasked with reclaiming the Mage Tower in Avenwood forest.
Borrowing a few horses for Ux Nakit and Valiira they set out towards the tower without waiting. They didn’t falter or stop until they got to the tower and the journey across the plains, though lovely, was uneventful.
When they arrived they were met with unsuspecting Orcs who looked to have moved a boulder from the front of the frozen door. The overheard them speak about waiting for someone, so they charged on horses and with bows ready. Eloheim charged with spear ready, but tripped himself up. Woodicus charged one and lopped it’s head off. Ux Nakit and Valiira both fired at the other and hit him in both shoulders with one shattering his clavicle and killing him instantly.
They shattered the ice over the door and opened it, looking in to see two elven men in light armor without weapons standing, waiting after having heard them break through. Woodicus took an aggressive stance and prepared for the battle. The men tried to run into the rooms behind them, but one of the doors was locked. One was able to rush back inside, but Woodicus grabbed the other.
The party began interrogating the man, questioning his motive for being there. Woodicus slammed the elf against the wall and he began to scream, he muttered a few words about a book, but was unable to finish speaking as the door exploded in flames. The blast engulfed the elf and tossed Woodicus backwards. The party then rushed into the door frame, Ux Nakit leading the charge, slashing deep into the stomach of the human woman who stood, hands smoking before him. Eloheim rushed in as well, pushing her to the ground and looping his scythe around her neck. He stared intently at the elven man, who was backed against the far wall and said “Surrender now, lest I should sever your heads.”
The elf looked up with disgust, seething “I’d rather watch the blood drain from her throat than to surrender to you!” He then lifted his hand and whispered a word, the room filled with a deep dark whisper. It reverberated and Eloheim’s hands shook and pulled back hard as the scythe burst to pieces in his hands.
He jumped back, now pulling his spear from a sling, thrusting it forward with a visible rage. The enemy lifted his hand, pushing the spear’s end to the side. He then whispers the same word, the room once again filling with a deep sound, a sound which shakes and bursts the spear in his hand.
Woodicus, now singed and angry, pushes past the livid Eloheim and buries his sword in the chest of the elf before him.