Their second night was the night on the road. It was a quiet one, the stars bright above the Iron-Spine Woods. The night was cool, briskly so, with the promise of winter not long in coming. There was a light breeze, carrying the pleasant scent of conifers, the ever pleasant aroma in the air from all around. The journey had been rather uneventful so far, though Fenna had not been able to shake her suspicions there was more going on than a simple delivery of stone and other basic goods, even with the small safe of coin in the second wagon, payment for previous timber shipments. It had started with the meeting with that fellow dwarf Banik. It had been subtle, but they'd definitely been hiding something, having some sort of guilty reaction when she and Friya had walked into his office. "Ach yer overthinkin' it Fenna," she quietly berated herself, as she kept her vigil, patrolling around the edge of the small clearing where they'd set up camp for the night. The horses slept calmly, all seemed well as she passed by the wagons, doing another loop.

      It was possible they'd just startled him and made him uneasy. After all, who expects a Templar and a Magister to walk into their office after being told it was two people responding to the contract out for caravan protection. Most would expect it to be some sort of wandering vagabond or Exemplari seeking individual, or perhaps a little more professionally, a pair of individuals from the Tundra Titans, a guild of sorts with outfits in many cities that served all across Suranth, professional mercenaries more or less. However Fenna could not shake the feeling it was more than that from the conversation. Especially his insistence about the importance of the cargo. Of course from a business perspective it was important, but his insistence had felt more aggressive than that.

       Then there was the strangeness of the gnome on the trip with them. She basically had only said but three words upon meeting everyone else, introducing herself as Tulint to Friya and Fenna, but refused to talk or interact with anyone, and had spent pretty much the whole trip in the front wagon, they'd basically never seen her in the two days of the trip, even when they'd spent their first night in White-Bank Ferry, a pleasant river crossing village, when literally everyone else, even the halfman musician Fredwick, a tag-along with one of the drivers Gareth, spent part of the evening sharing a meal and drink at Sandbank Eatery and Bunkhouse. In fact accommodations had been provided, the lead driver Theodore having been provided with funds to get them for the entire caravan in White-Bank Ferry. However given they'd never seen her, it was Fenna's suspicion that Tulint had even spent the night in the first wagon, much as she was tonight. There was just a whole lot about the situation that felt suspicious but she had nothing to go on, no way to confront the problem.

      Fenna finished another lap, still keeping her wits about her, and slowed down, scanning the area, as she moved to where Wvota was sleeping, across the small camp from the horses and wagons. The boar shifted, letting out some small slightly higher pitched happy snorts, clearly dreaming some sort of pleasant dream. Fenna sighed to herself, smiling as she looked upon her mount. Wvota was near a thousand pounds, a powerful and intimidating specimen of an Iron-Tusk Boar, though right now she looked oddly cute despite her size and general ferocity, snoring and occasionally flicking her tail or kicking her feet like she was running, making happy contented snort sounds in her sleep. "Ach I wish I could rest n'ar as comfortable as t'at. Me mind just won't let me. I nae shake the feelin' there is somethin' else goin' on here. Should I just pull authority, and brute force answers, search the cargo? But t'at feels like a bad idea. By Kartheart's spear what do I do?"

      Fenna didn't even realize Friya was approaching until the magister spoke softly behind her. "Answers simple. We does the job we signed up for. I know ye has yer theories Fenna, an' I'll agree that Banik fellow was a wee bit overly insistent bout the cargo. He was a shifty 'un. However I nae intend ta sneak 'bout in the night as we're camped an' go rootin' through two wagons o' rocks an' coin." Fenna turned to face Friya, who was clearly fully awake, and Fenna realized it was likely time for them to switch watches. 

      "Aye, yer right, Friya." Fenna grumbled. "I nae like it, but yer right. Asides, I nae trust that minstrel ta mind 'is business. He'd probably wake an' alert 'veryone."

      "Ye mean Fredwick?" Friya inquired with a giggle and a grin. "He snores like an avalanche that one , I doubt we'd wake 'im, m'heart. 'Owever we'll let the matter drop here I thinks. We don't have 'nough information to satisfy yer own moral limits of your authority. Certainly my own nae been remotely satisfied, whatever suspicions we may 'ave are definitely out o' t'e wheelhouse o' any authority or rank involvin' t'e Magisterium."

      "Aye we'll let it drop for nae." Fenna agreed with a small nod of deference. "Sides that gnome, Tuli, feels like she may be part o' it. She nary left the front wagon since Vorgistal an' nae said two words to anyone since we set out." Friya got a concerned look in her eyes then as she looked down into Fenna's.

       Fenna could see the anger behind the calm demeanor in those eyes as Friya spoke, her tone of voice dropping noticeably, the barest flicker of Topaz in her eyes. "You don't think she's the cargo, do ye? 'Cause if so we has ta do somethin'."

      Fenna shook her head emphatically, focused on calming Friya down. "Peace, peace nae I cannot see Vorgi or Darin or anyone being that foolish. Why hire me, o' all people, it nae like I hid me religion or title. So if'n that's what they were up ta, I'd presume we would nae 'ave gotten the job."

      Friya took a deep breath, calming down noticeably, to Fenna at least, and spoke softly, her voice returning to its normal pitch. "Aye that's true. Anyway, I'm 'ere ta relieve ye an' take me watch. So go on, settle in and get some rest!" Friya ordered, shooing Fenna off towards Wvota and her bedroll and pack. 

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      Fenna felt Wvota shift underneath her, and could hear the boars discontent stomach and snorts. She couldn't disagree. The day was warmer than one would expect first week of Oniva, with no frost in the morning. Though autumn was officially upon the Tundra Realms, this day was much more summer like, almost balmy even. A rare last gasp, as one might call it. It likely meant within a week or two the first significant snowfalls would hammer the lowland regions like the Fir-Jeim Valley. Fenna felt Wvota shift again, and felt her own stomach grumble. She knew they were still between ten and twenty miles from their destination of Spruce Point. They'd make it today, either late afternoon, or about dinner time. It seemed the lead driver Theodore was considering the idea of pushing through taking a mid-day break and trying to reach Spruce Point earlier. Fenna scanned the forest to the left and right of the road, listening intently as she urged Wvota forwards just a little so she'd be adjacent to the gap between the two wagons, closer to Friya, who was matching pace with the first wagon.

       The conifer forest all around them revealed no secrets, no dangers, it would seem. The drone of some rare insects, blackflies and the like, was a barely audible sound, but not surprising at all, and bird calls of a wide variety oft broke the serene tranquility. Fenna grinned, feeling quite at home, as a sound she knew well flittered over the road, the echoing of a bull elk's mating calls and challenge. The volume told her they were some distance from the creature, but its call carried well, likely a strong and healthy one. Kartheart willing, he'd be successful. However this variety of sounds, the pleasant breeze, the noon day sun offering a last gasp of a temperature that could be best described as pleasant and perhaps even slightly warm, was definitely inviting. She considered for a moment longer, before calling out calmly, urging forward a little more so Theodore could turn his head to see her. "Ach laddie, what ye thinkin'? Yer the lead driver o' this outfit. Tis about mid-day. Does we hunker down on the side o' the road and have a brief rest and meal? Or eat on the move with what dry goods we 'ave?"

      The older man, who looked to be likely in his mid forties or early fifties, took a moment to consider the question, likely running the route in his head, as Fenna had done. Though she presumed the man would have a better idea of the distance left than she would. After all he did this for a living. "Another 'alf mile, say a quarter of an hour. There be a spot the road begins curving further west, and it widens so we nae block any traffic behind us if anyone else happens upon us as taking a meal." the driver replied. "That suitable enough, Lancer?"

      Wvota grunted, clearly not happy, but she didn't give any indication she'd cause Fenna any problems. "Aye we'll live, Theodore me lad." she told him with a chuckle and a wink. "Ye'd think I starve 'er 'ow she behaves, though the size and strength o' 'er would tell ya different. I'll let ya to it and get back ta me place then. C'mon Wvota, tight loop and back in position we goes!" Fenna worked the reins with a gentle but authoritative hand, communicating with kindness but with strength and purpose to Wvota, who took heed well as she always did. The boar liked to play the grouchy, grumpy and aggressive savage, but in truth she was intelligent, fiercely loyal, and utterly devoted to Fenna, which the dwarf knew. As the pair wheeled about in a tight circle and passed by Friya, Fenna gave the magister a soft smile and wink. Friya acknowledged her and graced her with a smile back, the soft look giving Fenna a brief warmth in her stomach. "Must just be hungry." she muttered to herself, not sure how to feel about that sudden warmth.

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       Tulint was on edge, despite the calmness of the trip. She couldn't help herself, riding in the same wagon as that damn powder. She knew consciously it was so well sealed, having been done by her own hand, that they could ride off a cliff into a ravine and the boxes would likely survive intact, only openable by moving the various pieces of the complex locking mechanism she'd designed in a very specific pattern of movements. At least without risk of contamination or destruction of the product anyway. Unless someone very skilled were to try of course. But no accidental bump or impact should in theory open those boxes.

      However, despite all that, the very reason she had to be involved in the delivery process, and was by her own demand, for she refused to honor the deal without these safety measures, regardless of expense to Vorgi, she was still bothered by that very notion. The words 'in theory. Because of this, every bump, every sudden shake, every sudden stop or sudden increase in speed of the horse drawn wagon had her half leaping out of the wagon in a panic. As she thought about it, the little gnome almost laughed, but bit her tongue, at the absurdity of her own subconscious. There were nearly six pounds of Void-Dust in this wagon. Each of those boxes held nearly a pound of the stuff. If one of them were to fail, and the dust be agitated and kicked up airborne, it wouldn't matter how fast she was. She wouldn't know until she'd already breathed in enough of the stuff to damn her. Oddly finally admitting that to herself, very briefly at least, brought Tuli some measure of calm. She caught a bit of Theodore and....Fenna, by the sounds of it, conversing briefly, and was able to make out the gist. They'd be stopping shortly for a mid-day break and meal.

      They were but a handful of hours away from Spruce Point. It was almost over, finally, this year long chapter of creeping dread, terror and existential fear in her life would be over. "Good riddance to bad garbage." she whispered to herself, trying to find solace in that idea, find comfort in it.

      It almost worked, and would have. However only a few minutes after she heard Theodore and Fenna talking, her anxiety spiked again. Tulint didn't know why, even as her body went through the motions. The wagon was moving fine, she didn't hear anything at first, there was no outward sign of trouble. No sudden bumps, no sudden start or stop or increase in speed. But for some reason some part of her subconscious told her body to get up and move towards the small latch that separated the rest of the wagon from the driver's bench, a speak-easy door as it was called, and to do so with her small pistol in hand. As she got there, she placed her hand on the latch, and was about to open it, driven by some instinct to tell Theodore to stop the bloody wagons. Before she could though, there were two dull thudding sounds, almost as if trees falling. One sounded not far ahead of them, the other sounded like it came from behind them, likely behind the second wagon as well. Theodore's voice echoed to her, swearing in what she presumed to be Koltish, though she didn't know that regional human language at all. This mixed with the  panicked whinnying of the horses, as well as some higher pitched screams and blood-thirsty cries coming from every direction. Almost at the same moment, giving warning to all so they'd at least be ready to defend themselves in some way, Fenna's voice echoed out, a thundering shout just forcing its way through the cacophony of other sounds. "Goblins!!! Ta arms, drivers get yer coach guns ta hand!" Then came the ferocious war-cry, seeming more than a voice, seeming to echo with divine fervor, the very air around even Tuli shimmering from the power of her shout. "Blood and Stone, Iron and Bone!!!"

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      Fenna saw them a split second before all hell broke loose, calling out a warning amidst the dull impact of the two felled trees, one a couple dozen feet in front of the two wagons, the other behind them, effectively blocking them in. The horses began to panic, as the sounds of the goblins rushing forward screaming and shouting with glee filled the air. Fenna, seeing them as they moved to engage was able to shout a warning. "Goblins! Drivers, get yer coach guns ta hand!" She urged Wvota to wheel, scanning the coming beasts and swiftly identifying one a bit bigger and better armed than the rest, with a large, for a goblin, two handed sort of blade, a 'tall-cutter' as the foul greenskins would call it. This goblin also had some simple and crude hide armor, a jack of sorts, and was urging the rest on. Needing no further invitation, she urged Wvota forwards, letting the boar take over, hooking the reins into a specialized slot hook in her shield for stability, but trusting her mount to get them where they needed to be.

       "Blood and Stone, Iron and Bone!" she roared, her cavalry hammer, a special long hafted weapon designed for use from the back of a horse or other mount, seemed to illuminate as she drew upon her Fervor. The warcry seemed empowered with divine might, a sudden flicker of energy embracing her allies, a barely visible silvery barrier of sorts embracing them, seeming as if intending to protect them. Her hammer flared to life similarly, as Wvota snarled and shrieked, the near thousand pound animal making a beeline for the goblin raider with speed. Wvota had flown into a battle fury, Fenna knew, but did nothing to prevent it. In truth, she felt a similar level of emotion about the foul greenskin creatures, of any kind, and goblins were certainly no exception. She brought her hammer down in a vicious arc, leaning aggressively forward in the saddle as she did. The weapon's head came smashing into the notably large head and neck of the small goblin at the bottom of its gravity fed swing, basically in the same moment Wvota's head was parallel with the creature. The impact utterly shattering and breaking the smaller creature's body even as Wvota snarled and whipped her head to the right, hooking its broken body on her tusk before giving another mighty flick of her muscular neck, flinging the gored creature into a broken and bloodied pile back beyond the tree-line, never to rise again.

      Wvota began to pivot, clearly intending to head towards Friya and back towards the wagons. Fenna heard the retorts of the coach guns, and the gleeful cries of the foul greenskins, as well as a pained scream cut short, likely someone dying. However she couldn't focus on that, as two more goblins were soon on them, trying to leap onto Wvota with some success, clearly thinking to stab the boar and maybe dismount her. Another goblin leapt, a bit higher than its fellows. Fenna was able to intercept it with her shield however, leaning to the left to the maximum she could and powering into it with her shoulder and forearm to hammer the creature in midair with her shield, sending it crashing roughly to the dirt a stride or two away. With three of the beasts on them, and having closed in, Fenna and Wvota were forced to simply defend in place, not easily able to create a gap or distance to get speed and momentum up again. However thankfully, they were both quite well armored, and though vicious, the goblins attempted strikes with their crude spears were more obstacles and less threats to the pair.

      Fenna and Wvota fended them off for a few moments as best they could, but then suddenly, some yelling back and forth in their own foul tongue had the creatures breaking off their attacks, trying to flee. Fenna was not so willing to let them part ways, for in the melee, one of them had managed to find a gap in her armor, on her right leg, just behind her knee, its spear tip having jabbed her rather painfully. She wasn't sure if it had penetrated the thick padded leggings beneath and cut her but she could feel the heat and pressure, clearly it was swelling in some way. Her dwarven blood was up, and so she wasted no time seizing the opportunity, her hammer twirling up and coming down in a vicious pendulum like arc, catching one of the goblins in the center of its back as it turned to flee. The blow blasted all air from it, the noise it made almost like a kettle reaching a boil, and the blow broke the small creatures back, traumatizing the entire upper torso. The goblin crashed onto the road in a heap, seemingly dead, or at least unable to rise or move. As she and Wvota pivoted to get a better look at the wagon and their surroundings and allies two voices hit her one after the other.

      "Somethin' weird is happenin' up 'ere, the horse they killed, its body is tearing apart!" came the panicked call from Theodore.

      At the same time, the high pitched and kindly voice range out, speaking louder than Fenna had honestly believed she could, as Tulint's voice reached everyone, "Is anyone hurt!?" frantic and clearly wanting to help. "I'm a pharmacist, that is a healer, a doct-ahh what the hell, my head!" she cried out, suddenly interrupted, as a strange pressure seemingly affected them all, as the goblins fled, leaving more than half their number dead or dying behind. Fenna felt keenly the burning in her head, almost as if a hot iron was driven directly between her eyes, and blinked as her eyes witnessed briefly things her brain wouldn't believe. All around her colors simply inverted briefly, the world swam as if a looking glass, and then...the shattering sound, as if she were right beside a window being broken with great force, as her vision began to clear and things reverted to how they should be. Giving her head a swift shake, Fenna raised it, trying to get her bearings and take swift stock of the situation around her.

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     The next thing Tulint heard was the sudden blast of what she could only presume to be Theodore's coach gun, the smell of burnt powder briefly hitting her nose as she opened the hatch. "Got one o' the little bastards!" he called out, getting low and scrambling to back another load into the shardgun. Tulint heard something impact the right side of the wagon, and saw an arrow tear through the canvas top, sticking in the bench across from it where she'd just been sitting. There was a cry of pain that cut short to some sort of gurgling sound and another heavier impact against the side of the wagon. It was only then that Tulint realized the driver's assistant, a young man named Mikael, likely barely more than fifteen, wasn't on the bench seat. Theodore's voice followed her as she scrambled to where the arrow had pierced the canvas top of the wagon. "Mikael! Damn it ye fool lad, why'd ye jump off the wagon!"

      Tuli found her courage with a deep breath, tearing the hole a little wider, and peeking out. Mikael was slumped against the wagon, one shaft firmly imbedded in his chest, the other his throat. He was dead, she knew, and she raised her eyes, and in a moment of bravery and luck, for she was no warrior or skilled shot, she leveled the small coat pistol towards a pair of goblins rushing the towards the front of the wagon. She pulled the trigger and her timing was impeccably lucky. If they'd been a little less eager she'd have shot to early, but instead she caught one of them directly in the side of the head, near the base of its skull, which dropped the foul beast without a sound, its body simply failing, flopping. The soft crack of the small pistol did not seem to slow or distract the other beast, which leapt up onto the driver's bench and she heard the tussle beginning between it and Theodore. Tulint holstered the pistol on the small holster she had under her petti-coat at her left hip for it, and from another pocket of the garment, as she moved towards the back of the wagon, took some metallic looking powder out, placing a hefty pinch of it on her tongue and swallowing. The taste was atrocious but she felt far better about her situation as she felt the Ironhide Stim taking effect, her skin feeling cool, the her body having the oddest sensation of being encased in iron. As she got to the back of the wagon, a high pitched voice came from outside, one she recognized. "Shite, we got a man down! Mikael is dead or hurt real bad!" came Fredwick's voice as she stepped into view.

      The halfman musician looked up, seeing her and flashed her a charming smile that even, despite the danger all around, danced up to his eyes. "Hello milady." he said with a tip of his head. "I think it might be wise for you to vacate that wagon, allow me to be of assistance, I beg of thee." he said, offering his right hand.

      With no real time to respond, and unsure how to take such behavior in a situation as drastic as this, Tuli merely took the offered hand, stepping down and then around Fredwick, out beyond the space between the two wagons. The attacking goblins had suddenly, without real explanation, begun to turn tail, and she watched both impressed and horrified as the dwarven knight sent one spinning and tumbling, broken and shattered as it tried to flee. She was a vision of awe in the saddle, her and her mount pivoting, the boar snarling and huffing, seeming to long for further violence, barely controlled. Her awe still distracting her some, Tuli barely clocked, at first, the sound of Theodore's voice calling out, fear obvious in his tone, "Somethin' weird is happenin' up 'ere, the horse they killed, its body is tearing apart"

      Tuli shook her head, with the goblins fleeing, she could be useful, and she called out loudly, "Is anyone hurt!? I'm a pharmacist, that is a healer, a doct-ahhh what the hell, my head!!" She cried out, nearly falling to her knees as a sudden wave of pain and burning agony just flooded her brain, as the world around her swam and then froze, its colors inverted, with the sheen as if a mirror. Tuli felt fear then, as the shattering sound, like that of glass breaking, began. Only in this moment did what the driver Theodore had called out truly click in for her and she swore, going pale, even as her nose began to drip blood. She knew what was happening, even if the others didn't, and she knew they were all in grave danger. Finding a way to fight through the pain and fear, she dragged herself to her feet, moving by Fredwick without a glance, trying to at least put some distance between what was about to happen and herself, and ideally keep the dwarf templar between her and it.

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      Hearing the call of alarm, Fredwick moved swiftly to the back of the wagon leaping out, his small crossbow in hand, though he wasn't sure how much help he'd be in that regard, he turned left then right, and saw two goblins rushing towards what could only be the dwarven knight, Fenna. Raising the small weapon he pulled the release, and the bolt flew true, but a little low, hammering into one of the goblin's upper leg, just above the knee, which had it stumbling. Fredwick hadn't wasted any time to really admire the shot, falling back going around the left side of the wagon. His sharp eyes caught sight of one of the goblin archers up a tree, then the other, and he called out swiftly to Tiny as the Tantur leapt off the bench seat, a hefty cudgel in hand. "Oi Tiny, get down!"

      The Tantur dropped like he'd been shot, and a pair of goblin arrows slashed over him right where his head and chest had been only seconds ago, passing harmlessly over him and thunking into the bench seat not far from Gareth. The ornery driver swore, standing up with his coach gun and as two more goblins closed in, bursting from the brush to rush towards the wagon and horses he fired, shredding apart one of them with the shrapnel like shot from the shardgun. Tiny sprung to his feet, but the other goblin was faster, leaping rapidly up onto the driver bench. Fredwick sighed, his pan-pipes to hand. He didn't like using these tricks, they felt strangely like magick, and he was always concerned about accusations of being an apostate. However desperate times call for desperate measures. He began to play a discordant, sort of off key and off tempo jig tune, almost purposefully hard on the ears, focusing his will and his 'presence' as best he could on the goblin currently attacking Gareth. The creature seemed to reel back as if slapped in the face, and stumbled, losing its footing and advantage to press entirely as the music hit its ears. Its lunge with the crude spear it carried was so telegraphed that even on the constrained space of the of driver's bench, Gareth was able to kinda shuffle, lean and a little, and avoid it, and then booted the creature off the bench, where Tiny waited with his cudgel and cracked it a solid one right over the top of the head, laying it low to the ground, where he hit it again for good measure, definitely killing it.

      Fredwick kept moving though towards the front wagon, and as he did, he saw Mikael and immediately raised the alarm, hearing the sounds of the fighting dying down. "Shite, we got a man down! Mikael is dead or hurt real bad!" he called out. Out of his periphery he saw someone moving at the back of the first wagon, clearly intending to descend down off the thing. He stepped from beside it out in front of it and found himself looking up at the lovely vision of Tulint, the gnomish doctor lady whom he had barely had the joy of making her acquaintance. He threw on his most charming grin, tipping his head to her respectfully. "Hello milady." he said with a tip of his head. "I think it might be wise for you to vacate that wagon, allow me to be of assistance, I beg of thee." he said, offering his right hand.

      Cheeky though it was, she took his hand and even seemed, to Fredwick, to flash him at least the barest ghost of a grin, much to his delight. However she wasted not a moment, moving swiftly past him as the fighting seemed to die down, the last four or five goblins clearly having retreated. Tuli's voice rang out "Is anyone hurt!? I'm a pharmacist, that is a healer, a doct-ahhh what the hell, my head!!"

     In that moment, Fredwick's whole world shifted, his mind reeling. The world around him, briefly, seemed to drown in blood and gore, with screaming and raging creatures of bone, saw, blade and claw rending and tearing at flesh and mortal bodies simply for the sake of the violence of it all. It chilled him to his very core, his whole body began shaking as sound not unlike shattering glass seemed to swell up and distort even his perception of his own thoughts, his head ringing and screaming with pain. His nose began to bleed quite profusely, his ears were ringing, and fear bubbled and boiled within him, as he turned towards the back wagon, away from whatever Theodore had been screaming about. He had no clue what was up there, only that he needed to distance himself from it.

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      Friya reacted even before Fenna had verbally called out an alarm. Her connection to the Aether felt something, a ripple, a cracking even, at the exact moment the horses began to panic as the leftmost horse of the pair pulling front wagon was laid low by two arrows very suddenly. She didn't know what exactly to expect, but her shield was up as she took in her surroundings, not drawing her weapon yet, but opening her connection to Domhan, feeling the weight, the sheer bulk of earth all about her. A slight topaz hue in her eyes, confidence pumping through her blood, as it would any magister when they feel that first rush of manna, but she tempered it, keeping her wits about her. First sign of trouble was near immediate as a goblin tried to close on her from the wrong side to easily defend with her shield, but she was ready, her right hand moving calmly, precisely, as if carving something in mid-air, as she spoke in Terran. Dirt, pebbles and soil rose swiftly from the road-way, and forming a barrier around her, they deflected the oncoming goblin's blade, insuring it went harmlessly wide of her with its reckless swing, even as some of the soil and pebbles clung to her form as if to protect her further.

      Swiftly enough, but with calm and precise motion, her handaxe was in her hand ready to face this opponent, however she didn't miss a thing around her either. Continuing to chant, to communicate and manipulate Topaz manna through her body, she stomped with her left foot, guiding the energy with her words and with but a sway of her body. The biggest of the three goblins rushing the front wagon, all of a sudden, seemed to disappear, as the ground beneath him fractured and cracked with violent and sudden force, like an aftershock but localized. Stumbling from the initial spell, it tripped and fell down amidst the sudden heaving soil and rock, and its torso was pinned and partially crushed by two moderate sized hunks of rock in the Tremor. It was not killed immediately, but with inability to expand its chest to breath, it wouldn't be long.

      Not seeming to miss a beat even as she did this, Friya stepped forward from weaving that spell-form to meet her assailant, her targe simply dropped low, deflecting the goblin blade downwards, its short arms insuring it didn't have the reach to hit her legs, and with a swift right to left downwards diagonal chop, she put the beast down. Blood still dripping from the handaxe, she turned her attention to the sound of Theodore, the lead driver's voice and warning drawing her attention as much as the swelling pressure she felt. Letting go of Domhan, precautionary she heard him call out "Somethin' weird is happenin' up 'ere, the horse they killed, its body is tearing apart"

      Friya swiftly moved up that way, ignoring the few fleeing goblins entirely, not even checking any she passed to see if they were still alive. She could feel a pressure that was familiar, but not familiar in the sense of having felt it before. More like some nagging feeling she should know what it was from studies and her education, and this deep feeling within her that it was something of great importance. As she came about the corner of the wagon to look upon the creature's corpse, she heard Tulint stumble and cry out at the same moment she felt the pressure hit in her mind, blurring her vision, the pain like someone had hammered nails into her brain just above her eyes. Suddenly the world went all inside out, the colors of reality simply seeming to break entirely. Tree trunks were bright yellow, the road was white as snow, the sky was a deep crimson red. The horses were lime green, her companions black and silver, her weapon pink. This only lasted a second or two, making the headache worse. However, then the world went a bit foggy as if looking at it through thick glass or fog. Only a second or two later, the sound tore into her mind, the cracking sound, like that of shattering glass, and Friya bore witness as the Horror was birthed.

      The dead horse's corpse split apart, the front half of its torso ripping free, organs and all, the guts dripping waste and half digested food all about as they dangled. The front legs supported the creature, as the hefty spine, which had also ripped loose of the body, elongated and split, turning into a pair of whip-like appendages of sinew and bloody bone shards. What was once the horse's chest and neck tore open vertically, with a sickening ripping sound, revealing a near two foot tall gash like mouth with rows upon rows of serrated shark and lizard like teeth. The head of the horse simple turned inside out, the brains shredding and spreading like some gore toned paint down it neck, and its skull, jawbones and teeth merely stuck out of the gore like studded protective armor in some fashion. 

      It had no visible eyes, though Friya knew just enough to know it didn't need them. She couldn't recall anything in that moment, though the fear of its arrival had not shaken her like many other, she could focus, she knew the danger and was ready, her targe already up, as she took up a defensive stance. However the stress of the situation, and having never been the best in her occultism studies, she could not recall anything about this particular creature or type of entity besides it being a Voidling, and specifically a lesser sort in the order of Horror. Not knowing what else to really say or do in that moment, she simply shouted out the only warning she felt was important, the most important person besides herself to try and deal with this thing, arguably the most important person. In dwarven she cried out with all the volume she could muster, "Fenna its a Voidling!!!!"

      Even as she called for aid, Friya could physically feel the rage, hate, and bloodlust radiating from the creature. It was overbearing, almost overwhelming, physically forcing her back a step. The creature let out a keening sound, almost like a screeching saw blade and moved with great ferocity and speed, its bonelash appendages cracking back and forth with thundering velocity, closing on her swiftly. She could feel its presence, the interference of it in the Aether, tainting and corrupting even further any and all manna it came in contact with, and she gritted her teeth in frustration as she tried to weather its assault, her handaxe and targe working to keep those lashes from her body as they snapped and cracked down at her again and again in a frenzy. She kept her feet under its relentless assault, but did not escape unharmed. The first and second blows she managed to keep from her but the third came low, under the shield and drew a vicious and jagged tear across her left leg midway about the knee. She cried out in pain, feeling the blood flow and the torn flesh keenly. Another blow snuck around her weapon and parry, tearing a similarly deep and jagged wound across her right shoulder and back, which had Friya gritting her teeth and nearly fumbling her handaxe. Desperate to get a reprieve, she changed tactics, powering forwards with her targe spike leading.

       She smashed into the creature, feeling the targe impact, the shield's spike sinking deep into its flesh. However again a lash struck her, this time her bicep and forearm on her right arm, tearing another wicked wound and causing her to drop her axe. Another lash snapped towards her, but in that moment Friya smiled in spite of the pain and her bloody wounds, which were deep, but not immediately life threatening. For she felt the cool embrace of the Tempest, felt the crackling energy of her companion as she heard Fenna's powerful voice. "Stormclouds, lightning, ice an' thunder, the Tempest protects!" as Fenna called upon her own limited divine force, tapping into her Calling, her own unique sort of magick based on bits of scripture and prayer. Friya felt the protective embrace of Kartheart's presence, a hurricane like gale blasting the whip like appendages away from her body.

      Then she heard the fierce and fearless snarling of Wvota, the shriek like lightning, as Fenna's voice called out her diety's war-cry. The ground seemed to shake under the boar's weight as they charged. "Blood and stone, Iron and bone!!!" Fenna roared with all the ferocity of a Nor'westor. The dwarf felt the fervor rise within her again, directing it through her arm, into the head of her hammer which once more glowed and crackled a holy silver like color, the steel seeming to surge with sudden energy. Another arcing blow, using Wvota's momentum and forward motion, she smashed the weapon directly into the center of the creature's mass, shattering teeth within the torn gash like mouth, crushing the robust structures of the horse like shoulder and neck bones. The horror screeched in defiance and agony, but could not stand under the weight of the well delivered and divinely empowered blow. Its body began to dissolve, as they all felt the pressure within their minds release, the world around them pulsating briefly, reality seeming to swell and then exhale, as if feeling great relief. The keening screech echoed for a few moments, as the creature's form dissolved into a pool of blackened blood and tissues, eventually leaving naught but a dark and jagged scar upon the soil where it had fallen.

      Friya felt the pressure leaving her skull, and despite the pain of the gashes she laughed and called out to Fenna. "Thank ye for the assist me 'eart, not sure how much more I could take." As Friya said this, she stumbled over the words could and take, the words slurring. She looked down at the ground and realized there was a lot of blood on the ground. A concerning amount, given it was her blood. It took all the effort she could muster to get the haft of her handaxe back through the loop at her right hip so it would hang securely from her waist. After that she dropped to one knee and then sat down, her head spinning.

      Fenna rushed over to her companion and friend, with clear concern written all over her face. "Damn it, Friya don't pass out!" the dwarf ordered, fumbling with her left hand to get a small vial she'd taken from one of her saddlebags open. The liquid within smelled very floral and sweet, and Fenna carefully helped Friya drink it down. "Slowly, lass slowly," she muttered, hoping the small healing elixir would help. Help it did, the bleeding slowing noticeably, as color returned to her face, and the gashes began to close up some. They were still quite vicious and would require further treatment, and were still oozing blood. However, the healing elixir did its work well, and Fenna let out a sigh of relief as Friya began to perk back up, color and alertness returning to her face.

      The magister looked up into the face of her dwarven companion with soft eyes, some of the Topaz glow still lingering, fading fast as Friya closed off her access to Domhan, as a Magister must when they are not weaving magick. "Thank ye, dearest, twas a good pick me up. Ye can let go, I'm nae dyin', I just need a moment ta get me wind back. That concoction did its work, I'll be fine."

      By this point, another figure, much smaller, came into view to Friya and Fenna's left, the gnome Tulint, with a satchel pack of sorts, which she put on the ground matter-of-factly and began opening it. "Remove the dress, and either the pant leg rolls up or they get removed as well." she ordered bluntly, much to Friya's surprise and Fenna's shock and horror.

      Fenna rose, anger flickering across her face "Nae listen 'ere missie," she began aggressively, however Tuli cut her off, her voice cold, flat, professional.

      "No you listen here dwarf. I'm a doctor, trained at the finest medical institution in the world, the Karstic School of Medical Sciences in Valewood, the capital of Valewyr. Top of my class. I've treated countless traumas and injuries and that little drink you gave her isn't enough. It didn't mend the wounds fully and she both sat down and then you embraced her covered in potentially swine hairs, as well as dirt and dust from the road. Not to mention the very dirt she had clinging to her due to her magicks. Along with the risks of some of the fabrics being imbedded in the gashes, and of course the risk of the creature's own tissues and bits of bone. Her risk of infection is severe. If modesty is your concern then wield that templar authority and get the rest to back off behind a wagon whilst I work. Your mount may act as a makeshift curtain. Otherwise, you did your job, the beast is vanquished, now let me do mine." Fenna didn't know what to say, her mouth open, at a loss. Tuli didn't miss a beat, noting the bit of blood she could see dripping from one of the plates on the back of Fenna's leg. "Your next as well, knight of Kartheart. I see blood dripping from a spot between two plates on your leg. If it was a goblin blade, no matter how superficial you think the cut is, it needs cleaned and dressed. They are heinously filthy creatures, there is no way to know what filth was on their blades. So go herd the others where you would prefer and then extract that leg from your armor on whichever wagon's seat you would prefer to use, I will come tend to you shortly."

      Friya was fit to burst out laughing, it was taking all her restraint not to, watching the dressing down this little gnome was giving her dearest companion. She was built like a small and delicate flower, much shorter and slighter of build than Fenna, and in such simple garb compared to the religiously decorated iron plate and mail that Fenna was bedecked in. Yet her tongue seemed as fearsome a weapon as any Fenna possessed in this moment, and seemed just as effective. Tuli, not missing a beat turned to the her, eyeing the magister up and down. "Well on with it miss, remove one of these garments so I can begin."

      Friya pushed herself to her feet, doing her best not to smile and giggle at the absurd contrast of the entire situation playing out before her eyes. "Absolutely miss," she replied as she began shrugging off the mail lined gambeson tunic, as well as the thick woven shirt of soft doeskin she wore underneath, wincing as she peeled it free of her shoulder wound, where it had already been sticking. Carefully she sat down again, insuring her back was facing the gnome so that she could begin.