<div class="floatleft">(http://i1149.photobucket.com/albums/o597/Seraph_Azriel/88a8941e-e8c9-4fb7-9f0b-ee49828d8cec_zpscmehupcr.jpg)(http://)  </div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Albron Mahmud (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=277747.msg13654554#msg13654554)</span><br/>Half-Giant Aegis/Warhulk (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1392061)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Temple Ruins<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Cricket, Mahsati, Pride, Khait.<br/><strong>Active Effects</strong>: Cloak of Resistance +1, Ring of Protection +2, Fire Resistance 5, Fortification, Hardy, DR 3/-<br/><strong>Initiative</strong>: +0<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Stats:</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>HP</strong>: 49 | 52 <strong>AC</strong>: 19 (<strong>T</strong>: 11, <strong>FF</strong>: 19) | <strong>CMD</strong>: 19<br/><strong>Speed</strong>: 25 | <strong>Perception Bonus</strong>: +1</div></div><br/><br/>The giantblood had greatly enjoyed himself in the midst of the carnage and confusion.  The sounds of their comrades dying were like a jolt of adrenalin straight into his heart.  Their opponents had planned their ambush quite well.  As most of their former comrades were used to the like of soft targets it was only natural that in the face of real resistance that they'd fallen into panic and routed.  It had taken a moment to fight the urge to join battle.  Certainly he would have revelled in the conflict but...the battleground was simply too well in favor of their opponent.  A hasty retreat up the rock face was made.  All of them bore paltry wounds, for all the mercenary's efforts.  The fires that had devoured the others seemed only to have maybe left them with the lightest of burns.  Albron himself had been hit by a rearing horse after dismounting the rider with a lucky swing.<br/><br/>His sisters had hit him harder.<br/><br/>The temple they had fled to seemed empty enough for their purposes.  There was no way of definitively knowing how far behind them their pursuers were.  But that ever present hawk meant that if nothing else they most certainly knew their location.  A fight was inevitable.<em>"Finally."</em>A chance to see the real mettle of their foes on Gorum's beautiful altar.  Slaughtering merchants and raiding caravans was certainly a way to provide ample coin.  Some guards could make for good sport.  But they were guards, they broke and ran eventually.  The Gorumite craved battle.  Opponents standing upon opposite sides with their lives on the line, survival for all at hand hanging uncertainly in the air.  He simply couldn't help himself but grin.  What were their numbers?  What of their might?  Or their fighting spirit?  So many potentially lethal unknowns...<br/><br/>Still.  If they were to ensure their own survival they would need to secure this place and limit the enemy's advantage of greater numbers.  This place could provide them with that all important edge...<br/><br/>"Cowards, hm?"  A chuckle with a voice as fine and delicate as gravel.  Certainly he was a brute, but even he could appreciate the irony.  "They used the terrain and their numbers to their advantage.  A well-executed attack.  Although..."  A glance across their little party.  "...It seems that they were lacking to the task to allow so many survivors."  A stretch of a shoulder.  The helm of that black glass slid and parted like some manner of exotic folding paper.  "I would have done similar.  But placed archers at the rim of the gorge."  Another chortle.  "Fewer survivors that way."  It still seemed so strange.  Being upset at a coming battle, and in a place to their advantage, now that he regarded this place a bit more closely.<br/><br/>A death trap...  Such an ominous phrase.  Albron's grin widened.  Although that eager shiver of battlelust was stilled at her mention of escaping in the night.  A sound idea.  Not to mention that killing the bird would hamper the enemy's ability to pursue.  Though it did mean that there would be at least one small group that knew their faces loose in the desert.  The warhulk preferred his enemies in close contact with each other.  Like graveyards.  Although it was quite possible that the strength of the enemy force was simply beyond them, skilled and mighty as they all were.  A pause at the implication.  The warglaive came to the fore.  In his current mood...he definitely didn't mind the sound of company.  Although that hunt was put on the kibosh as his employer bid them forth for some healing.  His own seemed more as scratches then wounds.  Still, it would be a foul taste in his mouth if such meagre injuries lead to his demise.  The sensation was...something akin to a tickle.  An annoying itch that made him want to swat a fly.  Ah yes, so this is what the touch of Asmodeus was.  Although he was useful, if perhaps a bit...aggrandized to his own opinion, the priest paid him well enough.  The warhulk gave an indifferent shrug.  He was a cleric of the God of devils.  Of course he was going to summon one.  Although it was rather dangerous thinking to call one a 'servant'.  There was a reason so many folktales warned of entering compacts into such wily deceivers.  Not that he particularly minded if Pride sold his soul.  As long as payment came through and the man didn't try to convert or betray him the half-giant was indifferent as to the company that he kept.<br/><br/>Eyes narrowed slightly.  Khait's stratagem was...alluring.  That visceral part of him loved it, endorsed it fully.  Racing into the enemy's midst to confront them in the heart of their power, to see who would flee in terror and who would stand to fight.  There was a certain merit to the idea in it's own right.  Such a maneuver (if performed successfully) would put their enemy on the immediate defensive and could very well break their morale.  They could strike directly at the leader and (with Gorum's blessing) remove the head from the snake.  "I like your thinking.  A decisive engagement, all or nothing.<em>Bloody.</em>"  His voice curled about that word as a man might a lover.  "Though...delivering us into the enemy's midst might be a bit beyond our means at the present."  A frown.  He really rather liked her idea.  Albron turned the thought over in his mind.  There very well could be some way in which they might enact such a plan...<br/><br/>Now came the human's turn.  His initial reaction might have been a scoff.  Of course a human would presume to know best.  Ah, but those thoughts were stilled well before they reached his tongue.  This woman...was not as the soft skinned men that his people had butchered like children.  She could fight, and fight well.  Sharp eyes could spot traps, ambushes, and deceit better than any sharp sword and strong arm.  There would always be a need for crude weapons such as him.  There would always be those like him to fight.  But those barbaric sorts needed a way to properly enter battle.  Hence where those skilled in more subtle arts as she.  It could be very well that Cricket was right.  Keen sight might have spotted the safest path for them.  "Killing the bird will cripple their ability to pursue."  Albron nodded in agreement.<br/><br/>Another glance about the temple.  "Or we simply never allow the rest to come in."  A thumb idly stroked his warglaive.  "If we were to hold one of these passageways..."  The half-giant pointed at the door, the entrance to the stairs, as well as the portals to the sides, "Their numbers would mean nothing.  Our enemies would be funneled right to us.  Arrows could thin their numbers.  This battle is not a matter of numbers.  It's seeing whose will to fight breaks first."  Warm eyes regarded his companions.  "It is said among my family that when a desert rat is cornered, that it will bite a lion."  A grin.  He would welcome it.  This chance to wager his life on their skills.  "We can defeat them."