A world's support

[Anastasia]

A deep bow to you, mimicked by several of his crew. "Duke, my apologies then. I have not been to Celestial in centuries. I carry goods directed to Windswept, a portal town around a portal to a Prime Material Plane. The goods are foodstuffs and weaponry to support an insurrection against a tyrant. The weapons are worth fair coins, though there is nothing exceptional there. A single enchanted rapier for the leader of the insurrection is the only magical item. Our mission is not well known, as we fly many mundane missions to give cover to when our missions are more important."

A sigh at that as the dead lie there, "Good men, good crew. All for dragons I've never seen before in my life. I know not if it was opportunity or a planned attack."

[Nephrite]

"Probably just to spite us, then." Moore says with a nod. "We can escort you to your destination, if you'd like."

[Anastasia]

"We would be honored," The captain agrees.

[Nephrite]

Moore nods. "Then we'll be honored to make sure you get where you need to go."

He then sends a quick Sending to Barachiel to inform him of their success and their current plan, unless they need to be deployed somewhere else.

[Anastasia]

Before you can, a portal opens. A squad of seven hound archons emerge out as you hear Barachiel. "Return through the portal, you will be redeployed shortly. We are under attack all over - this is a general offensive."

[Nephrite]

Moore nods, then offers a bow to the captain. "May the rest of your voyage be safe."

He will go through the portal!

[Anastasia]

The party appears at Hope's Landing. Once you are, Xandra takes a breath, "I foresee great conflicts ahead. Several. We must be prepared for a long day and many battles. The next will not be the last."

"Good! That dragon died too easily," Kaja scoffs, "They're likely dredging up whatever fools they can do attack us."

[Nephrite]

"Quantity over quality." Moore affirms. "A tactic to exhaust our resources. We should be mindful of spell usage."

[Anastasia]

"Not to the point of ineffectiveness," Xandra remarks, "But to win with the least expenditure possible."

"Then rely on me," Kaja hefts one of his blades, "These don't run out."

[Nephrite]

Moore smiles and nods. "We'll just have to wait and see where our next target is."

[Anastasia]

> roll 1d4
<Penuche> Kotono invokes Penuche's magic: < 3 > [d4=3]

It'll be 3 minutes before your next task. What does that do for durations?

[Nephrite]

Inspire Courage and Greatness are down to 8 minutes (give or take a few rounds), Haste is... down to... 15 rounds.

Everything else is way longer, so no worries there.

[Anastasia]

Soon enough another portal forms, Barachiel's voice heard. "A catfolk cleric of Tyr defends a small fortress on Acheron, an outpost for crusaders in that realm. Crush the brigades that threaten him. If you cannot save him, do not allow a single person deep inside, for a demi plane's access point is there. If it is discovered and knowledge spreads, it could be disastrous."

[Nephrite]

Moore merely gestures for them to follow as he goes through the portal!

[Anastasia]

It's the thump of metal beneath Cresiel's boots.

The jangle of metal as you see it ahead. A surface of some vast thing, some metallic thing made of rusting iron. It looks to be the end of a canyon path, a dead end here as you appear just to the sides. About 20ft ahead is a small fortress, the stone doors badly beaten and being crushed by the attackers. They slam into them with battering rams - a motley assortment of humans, goblins, a barbazu, a lumbering humanoid of metal and several dog-like gnolls.

Behind them and watching are two. One is a shivering, semi transparent figure of blue, ice dripping from him like crystalline tears. It's hard to look at, like a rippling mirage that just escapes your sight each time you focus on it. It is nude but too indistinct for that to matter, his form that of some sort of humanoid. Wounded perhaps - you see gashes along its body, but no blood.

The other is a towering thing - a cornugon, larger than normal. A thing of muscle and ethereal hate, violence in physical form. He is not so massive as Gathgorian, but he looms and watches as the gates are destroyed. He is covered head to toe in plate armor, a dulled, club-like sword in his hand. "Attack, attack, attack," he commands. His words drive them all the faster as with a final slam, the gate gives way.

In the sky above, skeletal birds of great size fly above, a five-set of them. Roc skeletons if you don't miss your guess.

Actions, but this almost certainly is going to init land. You are 20ft away and 10ft to the left of the fortress. This is fairly close combat ranges all around.

Lots of Knowledge checks you can't fail are glossed over here for speed.