Agtharda begins chanting, reading from the scroll as she does so. As she finishes her spell, the parchment dissolves into dust, and the bones upon the bridge knit together and reanimate. The orcish skeleton wobbles to its feet. Agtharda gives it a slight push, and when the undead creature does not topple allows herself a satisfied nod. The half-orc then places a guisarme in its fleshless hands, and with her new minion at her side marches towards the adventurers gathered around the fanggate.
The magus nears the bars and picks out a skeleton warrior. Whispering arcane words, his hand once again explodes in a brilliant, golden light.
The ray unerringly hits the undead; part of the bones melt away and fuse together.
Pyotr watches carefully as Pellius' golden beam blasts one of the skeletons. His attention focused almost exclusively on the throne, and its swordbearer...
He hardly notices the unusual sounds coming from behind him, as Agtharda begins her tongueless chanting and the orc bone shards reknit into animation.
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After Pellius blasts the skeleton, his hand immediately goes to his head with a loud smack. "The king! That's got to be the wight that Navareene talked about. She said that it treated her fairly and let her pass after she... kissed it."
The magus looks about and finds the only female in the group. He is about to say something witty to Agtharda when he notices the animated skeleton. Louder than originally intended, "What in the Nine Hells? What's that skeleton doing on this side of the bars?"
Alerted by Pellius, Alagor's attention finally swings back from the undead creatures in the room in front of them towards the back of the group. Noticing reformed skeletal remains, he is almost ready to push through the line of his friends towards the back of the group, when he realizes something. Khozin is not attacking it...nor Bonegrit. Why?
Bug eyed, his hands still gripping tightly the great club, he hesitates for a few moments, his gaze slowly searching Pyotr's, as if that the warrior was expecting further instructions from imposing half-orc paladin.
"That's got to be the wight that Navareene talked about. She said that it treated her fairly and let her pass after she... kissed it."
"I suspect you are correct."
"What in the Nine Hells?"
Pyotr spins on the spot. he shouts, as he brings his warhammer down hard on the skeleton.
"Secure the bridge! There may be more!"
Bonegrit watches on with flat disbelief at the scene that unfolds before him. Agtharda can't be pleased.
"Uh... not to drop a snake in yer bedroll, but that one was Agtharda's. Think she was tryin' to help. Or maybe that's how we get through? Bleedin' deaders..."
"The king! That's got to be the wight that Navareene talked about. She said that it treated her fairly and let her pass after she... kissed it."
Delkaneth kneels and begins to put his hand to opening the revealed lock upon the fanggate. However, the plan to attack the room’s inhabitants before the barrier is undone causes him to stay his hand. At his side, Pellius raises his hand to bring his magic to bear on their waiting foes. Just as his spell is unleashed Agtharda seizes his forearm, shaking her head in warning, but even so his sorcery strikes home, blasting one of the skeletons and scouring away much of its ribcage.
Pellius turns about and proclaims;
"What in the Nine Hells? What's that skeleton doing on this side of the bars?"
"Ambush!"
As the paladin’s hammer blasts the remade skeleton to but shards of bone, Agtharda mouth falls open. Were she not already mute, her appearance would be of one struck speechless by the act. Then she stamps her feet in frustration, unformed, mangled curses bleating from her mouth.
"Uh... not to drop a snake in yer bedroll, but that one was Agtharda's. Think she was tryin' to help."
Agtharda nods vigorously at the ranger’s words, looking upon him as the one man of years amidst a gaggle of children. Khozin slaps his forehead in exasperation, but further reaction is interrupted as the fanggate noisily rises up to open the way.
Delkaneth unfinished work with the lock not being a factor in its breaching . . .
The four sentinel skeletons, including the one struck by Pellius’ spell move to purpose, their heavy armour clanking as they begin to move, their swords dropping from guard to readiness. Behind them, flickering red life awakens in the empty sockets of the seated wight. It remains on its throne as its guardians advance, but its voice fills the vaulted chamber, an uncanny sound for such a thing of death, a tone one would associate more with the urbane speech of a cultivated patrician rather than coming from the rictus grin of a thing that has not drawn breath for centuries.
“Who are these folk who come unbidden to disturb the solitude of my house and the rest of my soldiers? And why do they barge in, bearing the arms of peasants and masons, without even the courtesy of an introduction?”
Initiatives
Ordered Initiative – Round 1
Delkaneth & Pyotr
Skeletons
Khozin
Alagor
Wight & Pellius
Bonegrit
Agtharda
Under the mighty blow of Pyotr's hammer, the skeleton collapses in a pile of dust and bone shards.
"Uh... not to drop a snake in yer bedroll, but that one was Agtharda's. Think she was tryin' to help. Or maybe that's how we get through? Bleedin' deaders..."
Pyotr looks bewildered from Bonegrit's to Agtharda's face, then to each of the others, searching for an explanation. His confusion is interrupted as the sound of metal on stone heralds the sudden rising of the fanggate.
“Who are these folk who come unbidden to disturb the solitude of my house and the rest of my soldiers? And why do they barge in, bearing the arms of peasants and masons, without even the courtesy of an introduction?”
Pyotr ducks his head under the rising gate, stepping fully into the throne room. For the first time since joining the caravan, Pyotr disdains the opportunity to make introductions.
"Gorum's garters, here we go! I hope the Lord in Iron favors you as much as that Redeemer o' yours, Pyotr. This one don't look like he's got any ears left to hear yer terms." Bonegrit begins readying his weapons once more as things escalate quickly... and poorly.
The wight and skeletons coming to 'life' shake the magus' confidence. wight
The man quickly searches his brain to see what he knew about this foe, a foe he had never faced before.
Unfortunately, the immediacy of battle erases the magus' memory.
Bonegrit releases two shots in rapid succession at the alleged "white". He is unsure what that means, but people have been throwing the name around like it's something important. If there's any chance of putting the thing down quickly, it's likely worth taking.
>
>>
>
>>
The magus gulps as the skeleton closes in on him. Seeing that there was nowhere safe to go, he hefts his light mace and brings it about for an overhead strike meant to shatter the undead's skulls.
Bolstered by his success, he yells, "Let's kill the skeletons first and then concentrate on the wight!"
"Gorum's garters, here we go! I hope the Lord in Iron favors you as much as that Redeemer o' yours, Pyotr."
"Leave Gorum for the warmongers. I need nothing from that one."
"This one don't look like he's got any ears left to hear yer terms."
"Good. I have no terms for one such as him." Pyotr launches himself at the flanking skeleton as Delkaneth's hammer flies by his shoulder, striking the damaged skeleton.
"Gorum's garters, here we go! I hope the Lord in Iron favors you as much as that Redeemer o' yours, Pyotr. This one don't look like he's got any ears left to hear yer terms." Bonegrit begins readying his weapons once more as things escalate quickly... and poorly.
Usually, Alagor would be the first one charging the enemies, but hearing Gorum's name the burly warrior hesitates a bit. He glances at the big club held in his hands while his sword arm almost instinctively reaches for his weapon, almost making him loose the grip on the cudgel. At the last moment Alagor changes his mind, steeling his resolve and deciding to use the right tool for the job. He charges after the half-orc paladin, striking at the nearest skeleton.
"Want it or not, Iron Lord is here Pyotr!"
Delkaneth hurls his hammer and backpedals, making room for Pyotr to surge past him into the chamber. The charge is costly, leaving the paladin off balance, and the devastating warhammer blow he was about to bring down with both hands is averted by the skeleton’s shield. His foe responds by driving his longsword into the meat of Pyotr’s left arm – right where his own shield would normally sit.
Things only get worse. Del’s hammer clangs into the damaged skeleton’s half-plate, the force of the throw punching a hole in the armour. Unfortunately, there’s simply no flesh beneath to wound – stripped of momentum the hammer clatters to the floor and the undead soldier rounds on Pyotr, the tip of his longsword finding a gap in Haisnar Rosenholt’s shining plate and stabbing the half-orc in the back.
A third skeleton charges Pellius, the half-plate that girds it sounding like crates of cutlery being dropped from a balcony as it bears down on him. The Chelaxian turns aside the skeleton’s sword with his mace, lines up his riposte with the creature’s skull and swings down, his strike ringing off the undead’s basinet and failing to crack the bone beneath.
Alagor leaps to his side, but his mighty club is blocked by their mutual foe’s square shield.
Behind the struggling front line, Khozin finds himself beside the retreating Delkaneth. The half-elf’s hand drops to a dagger at his belt, but he shakes his head.
“Useless,” he concludes. “Allow me to address your previous oversight,” he informs Del, a long fingered hand snatching the holy water from Del’s pouch as he does so. He hurls the vial at the undead battling Pellius, but it overshoots, shattering beside the skeleton, leaving only a few errant splashes to lightly scorch the bones of the thing.
Khozin winces. “Near enough,” he offers unconvincingly.
Agtharda, meanwhile, does nought but kick the bones of her demolished minion in frustration, her mouth spouting curses that her ruined tongue leaves unintelligible.
Behind the commotion of the unfurling battle, the wight reclines on its throne, continuing to speak.
“Why such clamour; come, master yourselves. Let us break words rather than skulls, visitors come so little to my halls. There’s no need to doom yourselves to destruction.”
Then a pair of Bonegrit’s blunt-headed arrows smash into him, and he changes his tune.
Surprised his attack didn't have the desired effect. The skeletons armor and shields screamed for Pellius to attack with his golden light from a distance but there was nowhere safe for the magus to retreat.
With no safe place for him to go, the magus once more strikes with the light mace.
This time, he slashes in a diagonal trying to avoid the helmet but striking at the lower face, hoping to rip the jawbone to bits.
Again being just a fraction of a second slow, Alagor watches as Delkaneth tumbles into the room right into the spot he going aiming, to support Pyotr. With a frustrated growl, Alagor moves forward standing behind Del as he tries to gauge his next attack. Seeing that the skeletal appearances were much more heavily armored, warrior tries to direct his next attack versus the light armored legs of the creature.
Pyotr steps away from the flanking skeleton, taking a more measured attack on the already wounded creature.
"When you speak of me, speak well."
“To be honest, I’m more inclined to remember you as someone who’d see me hang for stealing a bauble from an absolute rotter, but as you like,” responds Khozin sarcastically, as he watches Delkaneth dive past Alagor, under the sweeping longsword of the first skeletal guard and on to bring hammer and axe clattering down on the plate of the second skeleton at Pyotr’s back – trying and failing to find a weakness.
Khozin sighs as another skeleton advances on Delkaneth, then sighs deeper as the first skeleton’s returning swing cuts all the way down to the bone of Alagor’s left forearm.
Seeing his friend injured so grievously, Khozin scurries forward, something clutched in his hand. Just short of the fanggate he pauses and shouts and a blast of light washes over the chamber, its gleaming lessening the bleeding wounds carried by many of the adventurers.
Alagor tries to direct his next attack against the lightly armoured legs of skeleton he stands beside, but the blood now slick on his hands causes him to almost lose his grip on the greatclub and foul his strike. Pellius has more luck, his uppercut smashing away jawbone and more, but still the thing fights on, even though all the bones of its face are gone.
The wight, meanwhile, stands and strides to the edge of his dais, drawing his greatsword carefully from its sheath as he does so. It’s a handsome weapon, sparkling silver in the illumination of Del’s dancing lights. After a moment appreciating the beauty of its own blade, its attention falls back to the battle.
“I can only imagine you’re affiliated with the Knights of Ozem, given your unimaginative dedication to taciturn violence. Navareene proved a much better conversationalist. Still, if you must be slain so be it. Though I fear the diversion will be disappointingly short.”
Ordered Initiative – Round 3
Delkaneth & Pyotr
Skeletons
Khozin
Alagor
Wight & Pellius
Bonegrit
Agtharda
All his blunt arrows spent, Bonegrit resorts to shafts of a standard nature, sending two more rapidly winging their way over the heads of his companions. The wight is better prepared for him this time, stepping out of the path of one arrow, but the second thumps into its desiccated flesh and elicits another hiss of anger.
Agtharda steps beside Pellius, her staff held in both hands, and swings at the badly-damaged skeleton he’s fighting, but the blow is blocked by the undead creature’s shield.
Bonegrit continues his strategy, pleased that his standard arrow managed to visit further injury on the wight. Part of him longs to indulge the dead man's curiosity and seeming predisposition to civil discussion. But the wight's words were true—at least partially. In Pellius and Pyotr there flowed the blood of Vigilants pure and true, by code and heart if not of the sanguine directly. Making deals with lingering remnants of Tar-Baphon's influence was likely a spit in the face of their very nature. Bonegrit could respect that. Even if it meant staring down a horde of hungry deaders that seemed capable of ripping them to shreds with the barest expenditure of effort. The ranger mutters under his breath, retrieving another pair of arrows from his quiver and setting them loose on the undead commander...
Both lengths of Bonegrit's snapped bowstring flail loosely from the sudden recoil of their failure. Over his shoulder, one of the arrows intended for the wight wobbles through the air like a dead duck to land in the water. The second projectile clatters to the ground harmlessly at the half-orc's feet. Bonegrit's face speaks louder than his words as his heart sinks in that moment.
"Calistria's Honeycombs..."
Discarding his bow to the ground, the half-orc reaches for the morningstar tucked in his belt. Looks like he'd get use out of the thumper after all.
______________________________
Pellius is thankful to finally have some space to maneuver, especially with these well-armored skeletons. He wants to enter the main room but that seemed impossible at the moment.
He steps back and calls upon his magic, unleashing his now trademark golden ray from his fist. The ray smashes into the skeleton in front of him, the one fighting without a lower skull.
Pyotr quicksteps to the side, placing one of the skeletons in the killzone between him and Delkaneth. He continues his more measured approach, wary of the second skeleton, and carefully watching the movement of the wight.
Cursing profusely now, Alagor sidesteps the skeleton which just gave him a nasty cut. Khozin's healing, although more than welcome, is just barely enough to keep large warrior from dropping to the floor unconscious. Gritting his teeth, he grasps his great club firmly with his right arm, shortening the grip for a few inches with his left arm as he prepares to take another swing at the heavily armored skeletal creature in front of him. He was hoping to take advantage of Pellius position and to sandwich the enemy in between them, but his wound made him sluggish and he is simply too slow. Seeing that Pellius is stepping back, Alagor lets out a frustrated growl as he tries to crush his enemy.
1) negates other attack
2) attack roll vs. skeleton 1
3) drops shield
4) knocks skeleton 1 prone
Within the chamber, the battle rages. Pyotr, wary and tiring, times a careful swing of his warhammer, but again it clangs off his foe’s shield. The skeleton jabs back, the tip of its sword opening Pyotr’s chin where his helm offers no protection. Behind him, Del’s hammer and axe routine sounds like an orchestra of untuned gongs, but he cannot find an opening in his foe’s defences.
The undead whelming Pyotr’s back tries a wild swing, enough force to behead the half-orc, but the attack does not connect, instead arcing all the way round to smash the basinet off the skull of its ally fighting Delkaneth. The bareheaded skeleton is unfazed, raking its longsword across the Chelaxian’s ribs.
The skeleton battling beneath the fanggate thrusts past the guard of Alagor and Pellius, its blade finding Agtharda. She whimpers as the sword parts her robes and then her flesh; doubled over she backtracks, putting Alagor’s bulk between her and the undead.
Khozin raises high the token in his hand, revealing a silver holy symbol bearing the picture of an elven woman’s face, bearing left, wearing a simple smiling mask on the back of her head.
Light once again flares, but this time the ripple of energy touches the undead rather than his allies, and their bones smoke and decay much as they have done beneath the glare of Pellius’ golden light. The skeleton that Pellius defaced (in the quite literal sense) collapses into dust, and Khozin whoops in triumph.
His immediate foe destroyed, Pellius directs his own ray towards the skeleton fighting Delkaneth, but in the tumbling melee his beam misses.
Atop the dais, the wight’s skeletal shoulders heave in an exaggerated sigh. “Oh well,” it bemoans “Battle it is then.” It steps off the dais and moves towards Pyotr, slowly at first and then with increasing speed. Its gleaming greatsword describes one complete twirl underneath one of Del’s dancing lights , then with its gathered drive comes down on the paladin, who only just manages to twist away in time.
Further back, Bonegrit’s bowstring snaps audibly, adding to the companions’ woes. Behind Alagor, Agtharda starts muttering in a strange tongue, her hands cupping a tiny circle of wood.
Ordered Initiative – Round 3
Delkaneth & Pyotr
Skeletons
Khozin
Alagor
Wight & Pellius
Bonegrit
Agtharda
Delkaneth, I've DMPCed you, so if you want to post give me actions for the next round.
Pyotr spins from his skeleton, avoiding the swing of the wight's greatsword. "Lady, grant me your power!" he shouts as he turns his hammer on the wight.
Even before his bow comes to full rest on the ground, Bonegrit's feet set to beating a path off of the stone bridge beneath him. His right hand tightens around the grip of his morningstar as he slides past Pellius to join the fray beside Delkaneth. He draws his weapon arm low, close, and to the left, the ranger's upper body twisting to accommodate the intended strike. Then he unleashes in one sudden burst, a vicious backhand aiming to deliver a crushing blow to his opponent's head.
Cursing and praying, that seemed to be the extent of Pellius' grunts as he moved to fight the next skeleton standing in his way.
Now with a little bit of distance, he once more willed forth his golden light, which smashed right on the ribcage of the undead.
He then called forth his arcane might and enhanced his weapon with some extra humph!.
Now stepping in, he swung his light mace at the skeleton that had just been blasted with his spell.
fumble:
1) Provoke AoO
2) Attack roll vs. wight
3) Break sword
4) Drop shield
The initial wild rush of battle fading, the fight is turning into a slog, with the companions’ well-armoured undead foes proving difficult opponents to beat. At the forefront, Pyotr and Delkaneth attacks fail to find their marks, although Pyotr succeeds in sundering the blade of one skeleton in half with a tremendous hammer blow. Del is less lucky, a sword already awash with his blood returning to sink yet deeper into his body. The Chelaxian sinks to the floor.
His countryman Pellius has better luck, a combination of spell and mace finally demolishing the skeleton he battles against.
From the entrance, Khozin looks across at where Delkaneth lies. “Speak well you said . . . remind me of your name again?”
Beside him, Bonegrit and Alagor combine their efforts, but their heavy bludgeons do nought but dent their opponent’s thick plate mail. Incredibly, it is Agtharda who proves victorious. She slides her long staff beneath the thing’s breastplate, as gentle and precise as a surgeon with a scalpel. When the staff’s butt impacts against the skeleton’s spine, a swift twist is all that is needed to knock out a vertebra and then send the whole monstrosity crashing to the ground in pieces.
For once, the wight holds the tongue it does not have, instead putting all its energies towards the paladin before it. A powerful jab slams into a chink in Pyotr’s shining plate, driving through and into his midriff. Pyotr feels blood trickling down his loins, but also something far grimmer, an eldritch feeling, like the rushing of a cold wind inside his skull, as if his very soul was being leached out through the wound. Perhaps the magic of the helm he wears, perhaps the sight of his companions falling and bleeding beside him, or perhaps Iomedae herself steels him against the draining touch and allows him to keep fighting.
Delkaneth & Pyotr
Skeleton
Khozin
Alagor
Wight & Pellius
Bonegrit
Agtharda