Were-Vermundr gives a lupine whine as he continues to retch.
"Vrood used Greater Invisibility - he did not teleport away. " Kaz craoks as he rummages for another of the potions they recovered earlier.
Constantin pauses and focuses as best he can in all the turmoil to see if he can spot Vrood at all.
Zed steps into the room and with the magic of Pharasma bolstering him, Vrood cannot hide from his gaze.
The Dark Priest stands toward the rear of the ruined room before a swathe of layered canvasses in some kind of shelter.
As the inquisitor stares down the villain, Vrood returns the icy gaze with just as vehemence, his pale eyes lidded by the skull mask he wears.
With the roiling fog having dissipated, you hear a voice curse foully from somewhere close-by.
Fools! You brought this on yourselves!
Suddenly, the entire world turns black. The tower is gone. The hands are gone. The lithe, monastic creature assaulting Hazel, the pavilion, the moon....
Everything you see is an infinite nothing. And yet, something is out there.
Like a shark gliding through the shallows, imperceptible and elusive but present and patient, something is out there.
Let me show you a glimpse of the glory that awaits. you spin around and Vrood is there, his pitch black robes somehow darker than the nothingness they billow in, his armor of bleached bone the only thing that reflects a light that has been extinguished from the world.
Do you see?
The leering faces of those slain in your wake suddenly rear up all around you – the Lopper, the Splatterman, the Piper of Illmarsh, Vorkstag and Grine and the horrible Aberrant Promethean.
Do you see?
They are wiped away, replaced by the rotting, worm-ridden visage of Professor Lorrimor as you saw him that night, bursting into his home with a deep hunger and a rolling voice... Keeeennnnndddrrraaaa.......
the voice cries, a sudden blazing purple circle appears all around you, tracing the intricacies of an incredible, impossible arcane sigil that blazes around the tower.
The professor melts before you and you are wracked in agonizing pain. You feel as though your very soul is being torn out and death would be a blessed relief. You look around and the others fare no better, each on their knees gouging at their eyes, grinding their teeth, though Hazel, Vala and Zed are worse. The trio appear to be convulsing, a foam around their lips, blood streaming from their eyes.
Success
Fail
Fail
The darkness is complete and all encompassing. Vala, Hazel and Zed fall to their knees but through a force of will or divine intervention, a deep glow begins to resonate within Vala.
Her pale skin takes on a golden hue and she hauls himself up straight, the visage of arms and hands reaching around her and pulling her back up onto her feet are the source of the glow. Petros has never left her, especially not in these terrible moments. There is a anger in her, a passion for justice that is stronger than the bonds of life and death itself and as she clenches both fists and punches them toward the sky in a show of defiance her glow bursts in a shower of golden sparks. The blackness cracks like porcelain and begins to fall away. Once again you are surrounded by the tower.
Hazel and Zed however, fare not so well. Though the spell is broken, dark tendrils of necromantic energy crawl over them, enveloping them. Zed fights as best he can, in an act of pure desperation he turns his weapon on them, slamming here and there with powerful strokes but where one of the black worms dissipates another pair takes their place. Soon he is covered, his mind almost breaking with the terror of it all. Get this bastard! Get him for Kendra and the Professor and for me! he shouts in a final act of defiance as he plummets toward the ground like a comet, slamming into the cold floor and finally falling still.
Hazel similarly struggles, dropping her starknife and tearing at herself as blood streams from her eyes.
I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not... give.. him... the... satisfaction..!
She realises her struggle is futile and in a sudden silence she turns and her eyes lock on Vala's. In that moment that lasts an infinity she knows her life is coming to an end. She has seen death, studied it and in a way it has become a way of life but never had she given much thought to her own. In her studies and their adventures she had seen death take their friends and foes alike with violence and mercilessness. But she would not go that way.
She reaches out a hand to Vala as she slumps to her knees, her eyes wide and brimming with tears that mingle with the blood that courses there. She offers the wonderful old lady not fear or resentment nor a fury at her passing... but hope. The faintest of smiles crosses her bloodied lips and she tips the lady a wink before she slowly sinks to the floor.
....
...
..
.
.
.
The spell Vrood cast was Circle of Death. The 11d4 was to determine the amount of hit dice he could affect which was 3 people. I am the kind of GM that really dislikes killing players. I have played with some that see this game as 'them vs me' and unless they kill their players they somehow feel they have 'lost.'
Well, that's not how I play. I'm here to tell an amazing collaborative story and if you destroy my monsters of course I don't take that personally. But on the other hand without drama, stories aren't very interesting.
So I feel genuinely bad that this happened to Hazel and Zed (of course we play a game where death isn't the end if yo udon't want it to be), but Vrood would approach this without mercy and I hope that you guys cut me slack on the basis of rule of cool :)
An invisible aura surrounds Constantin's head. Imperceptible to most, it carries the weight of the Akashic Record, the sum of all knowledge, a swirling logos of glyphs and symbols that hold a riddle that can answer any question.
"I see," he says flatly.
"You looked into the abyss... and you flinched."
His voice has a resonant undercurrent, like a chorus of asuras is preparing to unleash something terrible upon the world.
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The last clinging fingers of the giant undead hand were twitching, hard to shake off of his shoulder, and the weight of the thing toppled Kazamir backward away from the spot where Vrood had vanished.
As Vrood began hissing his vitriol at them, as the spell began to gather, Kazamir's eyes went wide, his connection to the aether not tingling in warning as it sometimes did, but burning with a cold fire that danced along the inside of his skull. The annoyed fumblings with the dead weight of the Crawling Hand became desperate thrashings, and he finally threw it off and gained his feet to hear Vrood bellow ...and see the wave-front of Death that spread out from him.
He was driven to his knees, nearly blind, and his outstretched hand landed on Zed's calf. Excited to a higher state by the raw psychic energy rushing around them, Kazamir's senses were overwhelmed by Zeds, seeing the black tendrils as they vicioulsy burrowed into the inquisitor...and Seeing, with the clarity of the Third Eye, how that conflict must end.
But he also realized that Zed could see, too - he could see through Vrood's shroud of invisibility. The Dhampir's great warclub had ended so many threats against them, against Ustalav, against humanity...it was needed to end one more. We stand a better chance with Zed hunting the bas#$%d than with whatever I can muster...
With a massive effort of will, Kazamir lurched forward on his knees, falling, arms wide-spread in front of Zed (hoping that the dreaded club does not find him in Zed's frantic poundings,). Ever since dear, departed, ever-present Professor Lorrimor had sent him off to Jalmeray, he had been cautioned that the opened Psychic mind was a two-way street, that there would always be forces, sinister and otherwise, that would seek to invade his mind. Now he opened those gates, threw them wide in invitation, drawing inward with all the power he could muster...
As Zed began to collapse to his knees, the black tendrils - vivid and nauseating purples and green to Kaz's overcharged senses - twisted from the Dhampir, slithered like hungry serpents, converging on the investigator's Third Eye and burrowing through his brain into his soul. Kaz's eyes bulged obscenely in agony as he thrashed on the floor, but he flopped on his back enough to meet Zed's for the briefest moment.
The faintest whisper of the fussy investigator's voice flitted across Zed's mind - You work is not finished, Zed... - and then Kazamir was still, the bulging eyes empty as the windows of the ruined tower in which he lay.
In the astral plane, Hazel feels a nudge from an elbow. Stuffing a handful in his mouth, Kaz hands her the popcorn, eyes on the fight...
Don't worry, we will check in with Hazel and Kaz after this
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The pain. The terrible ripping sensation of his soul being separated from his body. A terrifying feeling that cuts through all of the cold detachment and distance he has felt for over a century.
This was pain. This was fear. This was death.
I know I said you would have to drag me kicking and screaming, but I didn't think you would make it so soon. Zed inhales, then exhales as he lets his mind go limp, letting the shadow creatures around him close in. I will see you in the Boneyard.
But as he lets go, his soul continues to viciously cling to his body, as if he held onto a ledge and his body was paralyzed, holding on for dear life out of inability to let go. His heart flutters, and he feels the grip on his ankle. He looks down...and sees Kazamir, eyes black and body splitting from the raging forces around them, moving to destroy the creature that dares to interfere with their consumption of Zed.
Kaz...
Y̴ou͜r̶ ̕wo͢rk is͢ ̧n͞ot ̛f̀inish̷e̸d,̨ Zęd...
Zed's eyes go wide as the reality of the situation set in, adrenaline spiking.
"Kaz!"
But it is too late. Zed finds himself standing back on the cold stone floor, the only thing remaining from the vision being Kaz gripping his ankle, eyes bulging wide open. A soft thud draws his eyes as he sees Hazel fall as well.
It all happened in an instant. In the blink of an eye. With a wave and a word. Like their lives were inconvenient candles to be snuffed out on a whim.
There were no more words to be said. Zed turned, eyes hard, face furrowed in a silent rage. He takes a couple steps towards Vrood, speeding up as he goes until he's moving full speed to crash into the necromancer. His tetsubo swings to the right, clashing against the wall in a screeching sound of metal twisting against stone as it rips through the building. As he reaches Vrood he screams, a raw release of emotions like he hasn't felt for over a century. The tetsubo violently comes free of the wall in a shower of stones and sparks, coming sideways to meet the man who has caused him so much pain and suffering.
Zed's blow is absolutely tremendous. The skull mask is utterly destroyed and in it's stead is a mask of red. Sheer blood spewing forth from a ruined face that could have once been handsome but in the aftermath of Zed's attack is currently a pulp of blood and shattered bone.
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Finally recovering from the foul taste of the giant hand, Vermundr comes bounding around the corner again. He enters the scene in time to see Zed land a massive blow against their invisible opponent and the crumpled lifeless forms of Kaz and Hazel on the ground. Through the lens of his enhanced senses, Vermundr's Wolf can almost taste the coppery tang of their spilled blood. It's a sensation that fills him with white-hot rage.
The wild does not share the trappings of man's rational thought and the existential fears that come with realizing ones' mortality. The threat of Vrood's entropy meant nothing to the Wolf. Like all wild things, the Wolf exists to hunt and breed. The purity of that purpose is what gave the Wolf his terrible strength. At this moment, seeing his fallen companions, Vermundr releases the threads of control that remain between him mind and the Wolf, setting that strength on the source of his anger.
The huge beast gives a blood-curdling roar before moving like a blur near to the spot Zed just struck the open air and smashing his blade into the wounded Vrood.
Vala watches the more monstrous of her companions rally in the wake of Vrood's chilling spell and bring their fury to bear with savage alacrity. She chuckles softly in the silence that follows the crunch of tetsubo on bone and Vermundr's heavy growls.
"Hmmm. It seems you were the one who needed to see, Auren." The former history teacher, still oddly suffused with a faint glow she herself seems unaware of, floats down near to wear the necromancer's blood has been splashed across the ground. "Are your eyes open now?" Vala gestures to her left and the inky image of the Piper of Ilmarsh he'd shown her in that gaping blackness swirls up from the shadows on the ground. "Did you think I'd be daunted by those images? Petros is still with me. And your piper answers to me now."
The glow emanating from the old woman, who looks years younger somehow, brightens and starts to gather into a faint halo and ribbons of light behind her. The light intensifies for a moment, then lances into the shadowy form of the piper, and when the brightness fades, Vala looks as she did before Vrood's dark spell, wrinkled and aged, but the piper's black cloak and clothes have been made grey-white. The shimmering figure flourishes his cloak, revealing a cage in one hand and bloody flute in the other still, as he drops into a melodramatic bow with a haunting, sinister giggle, "Heehee!" before melting back into the cracks of the floor.
Vala turns her gaze back to the space near the spattered arcs of blood and bleached bone and shakes her head. "So tell me now, Auren. Do you see?" And with that, Vala extends her hand toward the seemingly empty space and releases a blast of blue lighting that tears the fabric behind it into ribbons and leaves the floor beyond scorched black.
HP: 53/57
Negative Energy Resist 5
AC: 19 (15 T / 17 FF) (includes +3 from bone ward, +1 from haste, +4 from dispel evil)
CMD: 17 (includes +1 from haste)
F/R/W: +7/+5/+13 (+2 vs death effects, energy drain, negative energy, & necromancy) (includes +1 from haste)
Monstrous Insight used: 0/7
Flight minutes used: 1/9
Healing Hex targets: haunt, Vermundr, Kaz, self
Bone Ward targets: Hazel, Vermundr, Kaz, Zed, Constantin, herself
Current Wandering Spirit: Bones
Prepared spells
Orisons (4) | DC 15: dancing lights, disrupt undead, identify, read magic
Level 1 spells (4+2+1*) | DC 17: inflict light wounds [ ], know the enemy* [ ], magic missile [X] [ ] [ ] [ ], produce flame (CL7) [ ]
Level 2 spells (4+1+1*) | DC 18: false life* [X], magic missile (toppling) [X], spiritual weapon [X] [X] [ ]
Level 3 spells (3+1+1*) | DC 19: bull's strength (extended) [X], lightning bolt [X] [X], locate object* [ ], spiritual weapon (toppling) [ ]
Level 4 spells (2+1+1*) | DC 20: ball lightning [X], fear* [X], greater magic weapon [X], spiritual ally [ ]
Level 5 spells (1+1+1*) | DC 21: dispel evil [X], lightning arc [X], slay living* [ ]
Ongoing Effects
bull's strength (extended): Vermundr
resist energy (fire): resist 20
Fly skill bonus: +20
haste (9/9 rds): +1 to hit, +1 AC, +1 ref, +30ft move
dispel evil (3/9 rds): +4 deflection to AC, auto-dispel any one enchantment or evil spell
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Vrood sought to use fear as a weapon.
The darkness looked upon the group and saw those things they feared and regretted the most and tried to turn them against the gathered heroes.
But he hadn't reckoned on the will of the Vala and Zed. And it did become a weapon. Zed and Vala took all that hate and rage and loss and channelled it, absorbed it. For if you accept those things that hurt the most how can they ever be turned on you?
With a great roar of defiance, he brings his tetsubo down. Vrood lifts his hands to shield himself but they are as the shell of an egg and the weapon smashes through them with similar ease. Hands mangled, never to cast a spell again, face broken, never to utter a word of power - a thousand thoughts running through his head though one overwhelming.
... the riders... got away. They must succeed, they MUST.
Lightning rips through the dark priest and his robes and hair set alight. The agony that washes over Vrood is enormous and immediate. They say that after a major trauma the body shuts down nerve endings to protect itself from the shock. It doesn't. A million nerve endings fire at once and each carries a message of agony.
At that moment the massive wolf rounds the corner, a snarling fury in it's eyes. As Vrood tries to back away Vermundr picks him up like a rag doll and with consummate ease and little mercy takes his shattered head in his hands and with a rapid twist snaps his neck.
Vrood, never to walk again, drops to the ground. He rolls over onto his now shattered back and looks up at those who have defeated him.
If... my life... is the price I... have to pay. I pay it gladly. he spits up at Zed who, without mercy, picks up Hazel's starknife and drives the blade through Vrood's black heart - now never to beat again.
The silence that falls over the tower is now only punctuated by the occasional scream and howl that calls outside.
Constantin races with the last of his supernatural alacrity to the falling body. Even as Vrood collapses the psychic is there, reaching, grasping, lowering him to the ground. His fingers search and seize, delicately fitting to the pressure points in the sides of Vrood's ruined face.
"Not so easily into the night do you go," the psychic whispers.
His eyes roll back. He sags next to the necromancer. His fingers tremble.
Somewhere on the border of astral space, his shimmering, idealized, half-formed mental body rockets out. Searching, like an eye flying through the dark. Seeking through the puzzles, this form finds the strange webwork of black threads that are rapidly fading as Vrood's consciousness ebbs away.
You can feel even in death his mind rails against you. But the words of the spirit of the innkeeper echo in your thoughts - "The dead can hide from the living, but they cannot hide from the dead."
Constantin struggles with Vrood's dying body a few moments longer, then twitches and lets the body slump to the floor. A thin wisp of ectoplasm escapes his mouth and evaporates. His head turns and his eyes take in the brutal, morbid scene, but he does not quite seem to comprehend it.
Zed breathes heavily, looking down at the mangles corpse. Sweat runs from his brow, dripping off his eyebrows, heart still pounding in his throat.
"The dead can hide from the living, but they cannot hide from the dead." I wonder what that means for me.
Zed takes a deep breath, and calms himself. Stop. Feel that emotion in your heart. Now imagine what the others are going through. You will have time. They need your steadiness right now. He sets his face hard.
Zed puts a hand on Constantin's shoulder, and he waits until the psychic meets his gaze. "Our work is not yet done." He turns to Vermundr and Valavastra. "Come. We have...three bodies to collect. Verm, can you manage Hazel and Kaz? I will loan you the heavyload belt if need be."
As Zed mentions the bodies of Hazel and Kazamir, Vala seems to return to herself, a glassy, far-off look vanishing from her eyes. She turns around to the fallen pair behind her only to find Pyth on the ground beside Hazel, nuzzling the crown of his head into her chin. Sniffling at Hazel’s lack of response, the little bird hops over to Kazamir and tries to do the same for him. Vala starts to reach toward her familiar with one hand, but a hitch in her throat draws a choked whimper from her and she instead pulls her hand back to cover her mouth. Pyth looks up from Kazamir, who also remains still despite his gentle nuzzling, his eyes welling with tears.
With the villain finally defeated, Vermundr leans back and lets loose a long mournful howl. Near the end, the howl transitions from a wolf's call to the groan of a man frustrated and in pain as the northerner's transformation reverses.
”He got Hazel and Kazamir”, he says darkly. ”And there’s no sign of Kendra…”
Zed’s pragmatic suggestion snaps the big man from his melancholy. He gives a nod of confirmation and sheathes his sword before picking up his fallen comrades, one awkwardly slung over each shoulder. "There's nothing we can do for them now Vala. We should check in with our allies. Maybe the Wolves have a miracleworker among them that can undo Vrood's magic."
Zelda buzzes with consistent intensity, the beat of her wings mirroring her master’s unspoken anger. She flits near Vrood’s ruined body. His head. The innkeeper said he could steal Vrood’s secrets if we brought his head.
Constantin stirs, and then he looks over at the fallen, limp forms of Hazel and Vlad. His brow furrows in confusion.
"That... wasn't supposed to happen," he says strangely.
"I don't... hmm." He starts to stand, stumbles, catches on Zed's arm, and manages to haul himself to his feet.
"Vrood took his secrets with him... only the ghost can help us now."
"Vlad and Hazel... that can't be right. They're not supposed to be gone. We have to figure out something."
The town square is littered with bodies, some two dozen at least even at a glance. Several buildings appear to be on fire on the far end of town and as you continue trudging through you come across even more bodies.
Occasionally a zombie or skeleton stagger into your path but you end their existence with barely a second thought.
Naked human bodies are among the dead, werewolves that have reverted to their natural form. The battle is over and several howls in the distance tell you the victors.
When Vermundrs arrive back at the Tower, he finds the wolf they spoke with earlier waiting for them.
He cradles a stone jar in the crook of his arm and nods when you approach.
Even with all this happening around, I could smell death in there. he gestures toward the tower. I lost packmates here too, but we decimated their army and recovered the heart.
I can only hope you had similar success.
His head cocks up at something you don't hear and he says;
The pack is calling me. I need to get this back to Rhakis and prevent a war. Good luck to you.
Vermundr regards the packleader with a nod of respect. "Than our alliance is over. Go in peace."
Vala and Constantin remain with the bodies and after spending some time healing their own wounds, they begin to reflect on how to move on, glad that their enemy is dead and the army destroyed and yet devastated to learn nothing of Kendra's fate.
Constantin decides first to search the area in the hopes of finding something.
He pulls back the canvas flap on the pavillion at the far end of the room and is greeted by a grisly scene. There are several tables lined up beneath the tent, each with an animal or body upon it in varying states of dissection. Most disturbing is the inert body of Vrood's odd homunculous follower. A human arm has been grafted to it and other organs lie in bowls beside the bench.
The creature itself appears lifeless and the whole set-up is some pale imitation of the work Count Caromarc had been conducting in his manse.
A pile of gear lies in one corner, mostly silver weaponry like that used to fight werewolves.
There is also a leather satchel on one of the tables that contains several pages of cryptic notes, written either in a language you don't understand or else in code.
There is however one piece of parchment that you can understand;
Vermundr regards the packleader with a nod of respect. "Than our alliance is over. Go in peace."
"I thank you. Good journey." the man says before turning into the dark.
Meanwhile Zed and Vermundr take Vrood's body back to the inn.
Having carefully loaded an old wagon with the equipment they found, including the wrapped bodies of Hazel and Kaz, the party once more turn their attention to Vrood.
Remembering the spirit of the inn, they drag the body back toward that ill-fated building.
Inside, they find the spirit is still manifest though no longer trying to hang itself. It continues to wander from room to room, the guilt of having hidden when it's friends and family were being murdered all those years ago still weighing heavily upon it.
Is it done? it asks. It must be. All those souls have quietened down now, I can't hear them anymore. In some ways, that's worse. it mumbles.
Zed nods letting the body if Vrood tumble to the floor. "It is done. The battle was very hard fought. I doubt we would have survived without the information you gave us. I seriously doubt it."
Zed shakes his head. "No, it is better. It means they are at peace and have moved on to the Boneyard. A quiet soul is a peaceful soul."
"Quiet is hard", Vermundr admits. "But I'd see it as a job well done in your trade. Hospitality is always temporary. If the job's done right, everyone sets off eventually."