#dreaming

Brekke's blow with the axe hits at the same time as the Foul Fortune.

Cantrip and blow strike at the same time, and the dragon howls in pain, then ...there's alarm as the souls fly free... but nothing is healing!

"What is... no... my hoard... they've come for my hoard..." He smashes his tail into Brekke, a blow that before knocked her over.

This time? She stands! It as if the dragon is getting weaker!

"It Works!" she calls out to the others. "More!" She can't spare breath for further words to them, as she's chanting an Edda verse about defeating a dire foe with the strength of the fiercest storm....

....and hitting SkallStryke with axe and Holly Strike again.

Flames erupt and venomous breath...

Brekke catches it, burning, choking, envenomed. If it had not been weakened, she would be dead! Arthek suddenly interposes, casting a shadow allowing her to escape the finishing breath to heal herself... or strike one more time and risk death. She does not recall being so close to death in some time, choking with bile in her lungs

Coughing and rasping, she hurls Speaker to fly and strike before she tries to get clear. A few paces away, she drops to the ground and scrapes healing runes into it, then slaps her hand (the blue one, not the silver) onto the runes.

Speaker strikes and shatters more scales... indeed, quite a nice patch over the dragoin's heart again has been cleared.

Healing magics take fatal wounds down to merely crippling.. and she can breath again.

Emmit hollers, "Chieftain, that gimmix.. .the arrow..." He gestures where it is, The black arrow is there! bent slightly, but there

Brekke twists where she lies, leveraging up to sitting, and she gestures, making a tugging motion and transitioning to a gesture as if she has a drawn bow in both hands. She "aims"...and then releases at exactly that spot.

The dragon turns from the downed Arthek, and Emmit tries to buy time for Brekke's cantrip, "Hey Dragon... you coward. How's it feel to see your death unfold?"

"You will not see it yourself, for you will die first,Wildhart!" And the dragon lunges and bites the Mountain's head, intending to rip it off from the neck.

Only, that's just enough time for the arrow to launch and plunge into the dragon's heartr

"No!" Brekke rasps with her ruined voice as the dragon attacks Emmit.

Instead of beheading the mountain, blood flows, and the mountain drops, not dead yet.

And Skallstryke writhes in pain trying to get the arrow out, even as Speaker returns to her hand

The great wyrm's claws are not nimble enough to pluck the tiney splinter of bane... but he's trying... even as he thrashes

Her first instinct is to help the others, but... but there is no time. She struggles to her feet, then rasps, "Help me get there, old friend," before painfully swinging Speaker in an arc as if to throw it again, but then holding on at the moment she would normally release, hoping to be carried closer to the dragon.

She lurches, throws and then holds and if the irony of immitating one of Dagmar's favorite heroes in this motiion is not lost on her, might allow but a brief thought on the matter. "Strike now with me!" Speaker urges her as they are near the heart.

Skallstryke sees his vulnerablity, and tries to breath down at her

but is at the inhale

A mid-air turn, twist, and STRIKE!

It's not her best shot... but it is still fueled by troll might... and gwydion outrage... and Speaker is the stuff of legends. Speaker cleaves into the heart... the arrow fractures further shredding more... and Skallstryke screams! The sound is as unholy a thing as has ever been heard. Instead of healing him, hundreds of troll souls TEAR through him... balefire, stolen a dozen times over, burns him from within

It's like being inside a lightning bolt, like riding a tornado...but Brekke tries to hang on and shove Speaker further, through his heart completely if possible.

A voice calls out to her, she can't tell if it's hearth or mountain, memories and images of lodges lost and torn ignite... she sees faces... some she knows... she smells Lutefisk and hears laughter echoing of Haridirans's wall... she hears the tromp of giant's feet on bridges... and runes marked into flesh by those who won renown

And Skallstryke dies. He dies in incredible pain. The death was caused by trolls. The pain? That is merely the dreaming returning all he has stored

Skallstryke's pain is the stuff of legends, then again, so was he.

Brekke something grab her... and she is carried off to collapse

"No...have to...heal...." But she has little choice in the matter at this point. Collapse, she does.

She wakes, a taste of spring on her lips

It's sweet and fresh, and such a relief. She drinks eagerly.

"Be glad your hearth stocked us, "Arthek's voice. He's alive.

"I am always glad for our Hearth. Thank you for aiding me, Arthek. Emmit...?" Her voice is recovering as her throat heals.

"You'll have to heal him. I used the spring on you first. He may have lost an eye." Arthek explains

She nods and heaves herself up, able to walk on her own now, and goes to the Mountain's side. "Emmit, I am here. Hang on." She looks over the wounds as she scrapes up a handful of dirt.

His eye has been gored out by the dragon's fang. If not for her it would have pierced brain

A grim look at the wound, and she spits into the dirt in her hands, rubbing her fingers into it. "You will tell tales of Odin now, Mountain. Of the trade he made..." she continues as she starts marking healing runes on his forehead and cheeks with the dirt. "An eye for the gift of seeing beyond what is now, of knowing the fate of his people. This place is not Mimir, but you may see your people's future yet." She finishes, and feeds the glamour into the runes.

The healing revives him, but she's not sure his eye is restored. "Chief...that was a hell of a shindig weren't it?"

A wry chuckle. "That it was. Emmit...your eye. I was not able to fix that. Perhaps Arthek...?"

"Not my strongest magic" The man says... "I think we all lost something... oh, you might want to tend the horse. It was the one that pulled you back."

"I thought it was you! Stormwake...." She goes to look at the fine steed.

This is terrible. Simply terrible. Stormwake's hide has been singed, his barding , his wonderful blingy barding, ruined, and worse? WORSE, his magnificient mane is nearly gone...

Don't look...this the worst

The fact he is actually less wounded than the trolls is another matter.

His mane. If Star sees this, she'll never let him live it down!

Brekke gives him a once-over look and grins with relief. "Your vanity may be singed, but your honor is mighty, Stormwake. You have done very, very well." She doesn't have his brushes, but she does brush his hide with her hand as if using the brush, gently where he is wounded, but with a soothing and reassuring pressure, and again she directs the glamour to heal.