"Your work is done here, Abel," says Keildrithe, echoing Nicolai and Alton. "Bernardino has confessed, and he will pay for his crimes in shame, and in whatever way Arton deems appropriate. Now let go of your hate. There is no need to take any more lives. Deliver the message Arton wanted you to deliver, and then be free... we beg you... it is time for you to rest in peace. "
Abel does not appear to acknowledge Keildrithe’s words, but continues to stare dully at Nicolai, his decaying lips quivering wordlessly.
Kajetan hesitates, not sure if the diplomacy will work, he suddenly becomes aware that he has wet the front of his robes and shifts uneasy as he waits for the dead lock to be broken. The floating ghostly hand quivers besides him as he concentrates on Brother Able, waiting for the once living thing to make a move.
Abel does not appear to acknowledge Keildrithe’s words, but continues to stare dully at Nicolai, his decaying lips quivering wordlessly.
Abel does not appear to acknowledge Keildrithe’s words, but continues to stare dully at Nicolai, his decaying lips quivering wordlessly.
“Abel, I am sorry, I believed you, I never meant …” Bernadino grovels at his former brother’s frost bitten, unshod feet.
Upon the older monk’s words, the spell that has held Abel in place appears to break. The dead man’s eye’s widen and his mouth snaps shut. He looks down at Bernadino, then across again at Nicolai.
Nicholai's jaw clenches as the deadlock is broken, and Abel looks to Bernadino, then back to Nicholai. It is Nicholai who breaks eye contact first, dipping his head and hands with a soft sigh. His lips move softly, and Nicholai slowly raises his head once more.
But this is no longer the Nicholai who pleads, or asks. THIS Nicholai commands, and expects to be obeyed. The aura of confidence, of authority rolls off of the dandy and hits everyone in the church like a blinding light in dark room. Even his companions are not unaffected, seeing him as a legitimate figure of authority.
Nicholai stands tall, his plain, borrowed monks robes looking regal on him as he faces Abel calmly.
"Brother. Let go of your hate. Tell me your visions. And rest. I swear that I shall see you buried in holy ground, as you deserve. Let Arton himself judge you, for I shall not. Only trust in me to see justice done here, and move on to your reward."
Nicholai slowly raises his hand once more. His arm points straight at Abel without wavering.
"There is only one other choice Abel. I beg of you not to make me do it. Your killer is revealed. Your work here is done. Rest. In holy ground. Sleep Abel,..."
RAIMENT OF COMMAND
School illusion (glamor); Level bard 2, sorcerer/wizard 2
CASTING
Casting Time 1 standard action
Components V, S
EFFECT
Range personal
Target you
Duration 1 hour/level
Saving Throw Will (See below); Spell Resistance no
DESCRIPTION
You are cloaked in an illusion of authority. others perceive you to be a legitimate figure of authority—a higher-ranking official, a religious figure, a more powerful warrior. This illusion grants you a +5 bonus on all Diplomacy and Intimidate checks. If you attempt to disguise yourself as a specific authority figure, you gain a +10 competence bonus on the Disguise check and any Bluff check related to impersonating that authority figure.
In addition, others are uncomfortable acting against you. creatures with an intelligence of 4 or more must make a Will save or take a –2 penalty on all opposed checks against you.
Brother Anselm wisely remains silent, deferring to Nicolai ...
Alton continues to hold his breath, weapon ready but unmoving. He gapes at Nicholai's speech and sudden transformation from flippant friend to confident leader.
Still not sure if his friends words have had an effect, but hoping they have, he holds his position, ready to strike if needed.
'Maybe we should get the target out of here' he murmurs quietly to Laithe and Keildrithe who stand nearby.
Laithe nod's silently at Alton, agreeing with the wisdom of the swashbucklers suggestion. He carefully steps back from Abel, then circles around to flank the cowering Bernadino.
It's risky... but Keildrithe crouches down and tries to drag Brother Bernardino away from Brother Abel, praying that Alton and Laithe have him adequately covered. "Don't ask me why I'd try to save your miserable life," grumbles the Karand to the older monk as he grabs him by the arm.
Kajetan continues to concentrate on the Undead Monk, waiting for a development. His brow twitches as he stares ready to unleash his spell at the slightest hostile action.
Laithe nod's silently at Alton, agreeing with the wisdom of the swashbucklers suggestion. He carefully steps back from Abel, then circles around to flank the cowering Bernadino.
Laithe steps carefully away from the undead monk and circles around to stand near Bernadino.
Keildrithe, for his part, begins dragging Bernadino away into the antechamber.
Abel suddenly bursts into movement, his target not the elderly Bernadino, instead, he launches himself with a surprising lurching speed at Nicolai!
Alton is taken somewhat off guard as Abel launches into action, at Nicholai rather than at the expected target. Still, he springs into action, stabbing at the creature with his longtooth dagger.
The quick dead easily dodges aside from Alton’s mis-timed strikes.
Kajetan flicks his hand forward and the ghostly hand rushes over and attempts to touch Brother Abel to deliver its spell.
Touch Attack (STR -1, BA +2, Spectral Hand +2)
He growls deep in his throat as the attack is errant.
"Whoa! Are ALL dead guys so freakin' fast? Or just the ones we run into?!?" Nicholai blurts in surprise as he steps back, raising his arms to defend himself.
;P
Abel rushes at Nicolai with a snarl, barging into the mage and knocking him from his feet. Nicolai crashes heavily into the stone floor, the wind knocked from him. The dead man reaches down for Nicolai’s throat with his bone-sharpened fingers ...
Brother Bernadino struggles feebly and without avail to wriggle free of Keildrithe’s grasp.
DM Moth:
Nicholai Whoofs loudly as he is knocked flat on his back by the charge of the undead Abel. Struggling to catch his breath, he tries to hastily cast a spell, but his hands shake and he only manages to wheeze. Struggling to breathe, he watches as the horrific hands of Abel reach for his throat. Instead of closing his eyes in terror, Nicholai steels his resolve, and he meets the undead Abel's eyes and stares back. In Nicholai's mind, this brief battle of wills, terror vs calm, hatred vs peace, swiftly becomes his entire world. He can feel the pressure building inside of him. He can smell the rotten odor of the former monk leaning over him. There is a pounding in his head,...
Something inside of Nicholai seems to snap and relax, and a warm, pleasant feeling spreads rapidly through him. A shimmer of light gleams momentarily over Nicholai's skin, and his hands burst into flame.
Not the blindingly hot flame of his spells, or the ruddy flame of a smoking torch. These flames are golden, and cast a bright, pleasant glow. Nicholai stares in amazement at his hands, then looks at Abel. His lips tighten into a thin, determined line, and he thrusts his hands up, sending a blast of golden fire towards Abel's face,...
As Nicolai puts his hands up, Abel slashes at them with his sharpened fingers, scoring a series of deep, bloody and very painful parallel lines across Nicolai’s palms, tearing through flesh and tendons to the bone
“Abel! No, you cannot do this!” shouts Brother Anselm. Raising the simple Star of Arton that hangs around his neck he calls out. “Father Arton, send this man back to the grave where he belongs!”
A faint radiance seems to creep out in a sphere from where Anselm stands, encompassing those nearby including Abel, who hisses and flinches as the light touches him.
Nicholai screams in agony as the claw-like fingers of Abel slash his arms and hands to the bone.
Despite the pain, Nicolai’s focus does not waver and he sends a fan of golden fire into Abel’s face. The dead man shrieks as the flames burn away his hair and the dry skin of his face, leaving a skull plastered with charred, blackened flesh with hateful, mad eyes.
Despite the pain, Nicolai’s focus does not waver and he sends a fan of golden fire into Abel’s face. The dead man shrieks as the flames burn away his hair and the dry skin of his face, leaving a skull plastered with charred, blackened flesh with hateful, mad eyes.
Laithe glances backwards for a split second, watching Keildrithe pull brother Bernadino free and then curses as he looks back and finds Abel charging across the room as Nicolai.
Calling on the powers of the wild once more, he transforms into wolf-form and charges after the undead monk. He is too late to prevent Nicolai from the claws of the creature, but he charges at it's back, jaws snapping at it's neck.
Keildrithe curses as he watches Abel knock Nicolai to the ground and then rend him viciously. He takes heart when Laithe charges the fiend, and dismisses Brother Bernardino. "Run for your life while you still can, Bernardino. Tell the others what your jealousy and hypocrisy have unleashed on this world, while we try to set things right."
The bard then turns again toward the melee, and begins to recite an ode that resounds powerfully within the vaulted church.
When we meet eye to eye
I will ask how and why
And when guilt has its way
One less reason to stay
And I will watch you cry...
Saw you standing nigh
In the corner
Told me that you had died
Become a ghost in perpetual void
And neglect all reasons why...
The chant is mournful, yet somehow, Keildrithe's companions sense that the words give them some insight into Abel's soul, and some power over him... and that lifts their spirits while they confront the undead horror.
Laithe again leaps at Abel, but the dead man swats him aside, and the wolf’s jaws close on empty air. Keildrithe begins an ode of hope and courage to attempt to bolster his companions’ fighting spirits.
Alton moves into contact with the thing again, determined to cause the creature some pain and give Nicolai a chance to get off the ground. He moves to flank Abel accross from Laithe, and strikes again with the longtooth dagger.
Alton’s dagger skids across Abel’s surprisingly tough skin without causing any apparent damage.
Kajetan tries to touch the undead monk again.
Touch Attack (STR -1, BA +2, Spectral Hand +2, +1 Inspire Courage)
Kajetan’s spectral hand touches Abel, who you notice seems to be moving somewhat more slowly now for some reason. However, he seems unfazed by the spectral touch.
Abel turns at slashes at Laithe once again with his sharpened fingers, scoring bloody lines across the wolf’s nose and trying to swat him aside, before turning and shambling in the direction that Keildrithe dragged Bernadino.
Brother Bernadino struggles to his feet and begins hobbling towards the rear door of the church.
Alton strikes at the thing as it moves away again, a small part of him wondering whether its a good thing or not that Abel doesn't see him as enough of a threat to attack.
Alton strikes at the thing as it moves away again, a small part of him wondering whether its a good thing or not that Abel doesn't see him as enough of a threat to attack.
\
"Abel! Stop!" Nicholai's voice rolls out. Despite the obvious pain, it still echoes with authority. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his mangled arms, Nicholai climbs to his feet as Alton moves to intercept the undead monk.
"Abel. You. Will. Stop." Nicholai calls firmly to Abel's back. He raises his hands once more and begins casting, being slow, deliberate and precise in his casting either due to his injuries, or his feelings about Abel. He finishes, pointing his right hand at Abel and saying aloud the final phrase in a voice that sounds both joyous and sad, condemning and forgiving. As the final syllable flows from his tongue, a ray of brilliant scarlet fire flashes from his fingers, briefly illuminating the church in red light as it stabs towards Abel,...