#dreaming

"You can try." Is all she says. Her halberd speaks eloquently enough.

Blows are traded, the Ogre is stronger than most trolls, the key word being most! But the blessing of Atlas is on Dagmar, and Oaths to her father and mother, to her liege, and more fuel her! This is a battle of titans... but Dagmar is hampered by lesser nightmares trying to get past her to Olgar that she must also deal with. And The Ogre is slowed by the Satyr over his shoulder

Great chunks of flesh and blood are carved out of both

Enough so, that while Dagmar feels she is winning, she also feels Gwydion rage threatening to burst!

(WP ROLL for Dagmar, Dif 5!)

/roll 6 5

Rage has it's uses, but the problem being, she might kill that satyr in a fit. The guardian spirit holds back Gwydion rage, just barely.

There might be a somewhat manic gleam in her eyes, however.

And adrenaline plus battle fury is helpful for ignoring the bleeding.

The ogre snaps and lets the satyr drop and then with his free hand, grabs the long handle of flyswater "I will break this, then? I will break you!" And he starts to squeeze!

"You want to dance?" She uses his grip on Flyswatter to pull him closer, and knees him in the groin.

If she has to smash his codpiece like a beer can, so be it.

THAT..works! Ogres are truly dumb. So perhaps it's no surprise that while he was using strenghth on squeezing, he neglecteed to plant his feet. And, that armor aside, he hasn't much of a cup to protect

the codpiece splinters, the ogre howls as he's yanked into it

She follows it with a headbutt before yanking her weapon back.

The ogre staggers back, swings his axe and strikes her

(Stamina plus 2 more dice for armor)

/roll 6

What should be a shattering blow? Pfft... The armor holds, and Dagmar holds even more. She's learned to twist to cheat a certain strike. There's a clang, but nothing more

The ogre is off balance, off center... and Olgar is calling out

"And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light!" Olgar finishes the last stanza, his own blood dripping on the trod as he seems to feed it some of his own essence to remind it that it is is meant to be silver!

/roll explode 8

And with a swing so sharp that the air is cut, Flyswatter slices clean through the Ogre's neck to part his head from his body.

The head looks.. surprised, bouncing on the trod, leaking black blood. But a trail of blood from Olgar comes at it as if hunting the black pool , and Olgar's blood turns silver, and leaves silver behind it. It plunges into the black blood stain and ..devours it! The silver consquers the dark, and spreads... the trod strengthening and growing silver all over

And the invading nightmares begin to burn on the silver

"The pact is restored. You can't enter the silver! You are not welcome. You are not wanted" Olgar says this with a kind of authority. "The dreaming denies you it's love. Get the fuck off my trod!"

She plants herself over the satyr - protecting the fallen fae with her mass as she fights the himera that remain.

The chimera that remain are univited, and sizzling. Between that and Dagmar's blows, they take their chances with the dreaming

The satyr looks up, he is groaning, missing a horn! "Tavi? No... you're not her"

She shakes her head. "I'm not." With the threat gone, she picks up the wounded satyr with her free hand.

He is exhausted, and wounded. he's actually older than her but she dwarfs him, particularly here.

Olgar looks back "Some may have gotten past me, but it would have been a lot worse without you, Dagmar. Let's get back. This section of the trod at least will hold"

She nods. With the battle-heat gone, she's gaining a dim awareness of her injuries. But her armor held, and home will bring healing.

Olgar says "Let's go home. Tavi? WHy is that name familiar?"

"She is.. she was, our rover" The satyr says

(To RV)