Hisao shrugs at what Iommi says and bends to search the remains of the skeletons and ghouls
Jean recovers from the fray, picking up swiftly his flickering spear, regaining his composure, eyeing the darkness ahead, and calming down from his youthful flares. Being addressed, he turns to his curious friend, meaning to sate him:
"Mon frère, il me fera plaisir de vous enseigner la langue que je parle. Mais je avoue; Je ne peux pas! Ce est un don du Saint-Esprit, et est imprégné seulement par sa propre volonté. L'Esprit est en vous, oui? Aussi frère, pardonnez-moi; quel est votre nom?"
Jean puts a hand on Iommi's shoulder; in a Christian/brothery sort of way.
"Hm? Me? Yeah, I was originally Alphonse Montacute...though in name only, really."
"And if you're really curious about Jean's language I can teach you if we ever get some spare time. It's Celestial, or Enochian if you prefer. The language of the angels. it's a bit tricky, but definitely learnable.
He slips the offered ring on his finger with a nod of thanks as he speaks.
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Hisao shrugs at what Iommi says and bends to search the remains of the skeletons and ghouls
The skeletal remains wear shrouds of cobwebs, dust, and funeral wrappings along with their rusted jerkins of studded leather and mail, and each clutches a rusted antique weapon in its bony grasp--thus, 2 chain shirts, 2 studded leathers, 2 scimitars, 2 light maces, 4 light wooden shields, and a gold chain found on one of their bony necks....
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We have little time for such baubles! Onward with the hunt!
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As Hisao is snatching the gold chain at least from the neck if the wealthy skeleton that bore the prize, a gust of charnel wind seems to blow through a dark archway in the north wall of the vault in which these undead had waited in ambush....
Perception checks, please....
[dice=Perception]1d20+4
Hisao hears only the faint moan of charnel wind through the black aperture to the north....
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1d20-1
The paladin squire detects another, subtler sound under the subterranean wind: a rattle of chains, perhaps, as if a distant portcullis was raised or lowered....
"Anybody else hear chains rattling?"
"Sounded like it was coming from over there." he says, and gestures to the north.
Steel yourself companions, something approaches!
Jean also hears the rattle and clangor of chains and bars to the north....
before the wind blows trouble our way...
To Jean Lamarre: I am named Magnusson, after my grandfather -- raised by Queen Margaret I with King Eric I of Pomerania. My forename is Iommi-Tyr.
Alas, I must listen to you speak the language when the, um "Spirit?", moves you.
To Alphonse Veritas: You know that language as well, I should have known a Nobleman would have studied it; I shall have to learn it from you as well, Sir.
....The Montacutes, ahh -- solid line except for John, Third Earl; hopefully you were not part of his horrid plot against Bolingbroke?!?....
But as an Aasimar, I believe you are older even than I -- did you know The Black Prince or Simon de Burley, or did you serve under King Edward at Sluys or Crecy?
We must trade stories sometime; Prince Harry and I were as close as brothers when we were children, and later Queen Margaret appointed me to mentor Princess Philippa!
....And as the cold wind blows the sounds of more malice over Iommi-Tyr Magnusson's incessant anecdotes about English and Scandinavian nobility....
Oblivious, the Viking scholar continues until Alphonse & Tevaga cut him off with a warning glance or harsh reminder of WHERE WE ARE.
Speaking of Montacutes -- I remember this one time that Thomas Chaucer and Jack Falstaff took Prince Harry and me out to Salisbury (I wonder if Thomas Chaucer is still alive -- god, he'd be in his what, early 60s now. I remember how sad we all were when his dad died.) It was a rare sunny day in the midst of rainy July -- and we met with Alice Ingeborge, Anne & Margaret Montacute's maid -- and Alice brought along a dozen girls of Salisbury, right under John Montacute's nose. We partied in the third parlor room with half of the Montacutes half-naked and the other half half-oblivious! You know that room -- with the big tapestry -- and when Falstaff got so drunk he--
--Something approaches?
"I'd love to trade stories with you...later. Though I think you'll find my experience lacking in the details you desire. I was not, shall we say, conceived on the proper side of the sheets."
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A deep, inhuman croak echoes from the north, and heavy thumping footfalls herald the imminent arrival of some new horror....
Initiative
{b] I wonder what nasty beastie is coming at us now? [/b]
Tevaga the Redeemer!
Hisao of the Yellow Reeds!
Paddy!
Otyugh!
Jean Lamarre!
Alphonse!
TBD: Upchell ap Ossian!
Eeeeek! Squeaaaaak!
Round 1 begins with the monster, a hideous, horse-sized abomination with pale, mottled hide, ropy tentacles ending in spiky pads, or in a cluster of eyeballs, and elephantine, stump-like legs, appearing in the archway at the north wall of the 30-ft-square vaulted chamber in which the undead ambushed the party, about 30 ft from the front line of the adventurers, who stand in the 10-ft-wide passageway leading into the vault at the south wall....
Hisao replaces his mace with his blade and moves to the West end of the chamber trying to get in flanking position when the monster moves in.
"Don't come any closer." Alphonse warns, moving up to stand as close to the passage as he can manage.
He readies himself to attack as soon as the creature enters his range.
Paddy draws his bow and readies an arrow.
What in blazes is that? It looks like a huge piece of.....well....you know....
The monster stomps 20 ft closer (now 10 ft from Alphonse and Hisao) and lunges its barrel-shaped bulk at the young paladin squire....
Bite at Alphonse chomps his left forearm for damage!
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The stench of decay hangs heavy on this monster's filthy hide.... Flies buzz in a cloud around it, and bits of refuse and mortal remnants drip from its horrible, stinking maw!
Alphonse quickly steps in, ignoring the pain for the moment, and swings his scythe.
Alphonse quickly steps in, ignoring the pain for the moment, and swings his scythe.
1d20+5
2d4+6
The scythe blade sinks deep into the beast's flesh, and it screams!
Paddy strides forward and stabs at the beast.
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Jean reels at the sight of the thing that lay near the tip of his glowing spear. Something that he has never seen nor heard of, within any of the tomes inside his monastery in Gascony, or in any of his fel dreams. His reaction thusly is one of adrenal fear, and he jabs at the beast in an angelic howl:
"CORUUB SH'YA KEILISHRY'AH BERROUS!"
1st Rd
After being caught completely off-guard by the Otyugh's approach and attack on Alphonse Veritas,....
Aghhh! Monster!
Iommi-Tyr Magnusson falls backward and panickedly scrabbles away from the thing in fright and then fumbles to hurriedly load his Crossbow .
....
Oddly, neither Skeletons nor Gremlins nor Ghouls nor Gargoyles evoked this horrified reaction of panic and revulsion. But this "monster" is something completely out of the Norwegian scholar's experience -- or his nightmares.
Hopefully Provoking an AoO won't get me killed (if the thing can even reach me to take the AoO, that is.
Paddy strides forward and stabs at the beast.
[dice=attack] 1d20 + 4 + 2; 1d6; 1d6
Unable to get within reach of the beast without risking a lashing from one of its horrid, spiky tentacles, the nimble Irishman slides closer cautiously, positioning himself to slide again into a flanking position in the next moment....
Jean reels at the sight of the thing that lay near the tip of his glowing spear. Something that he has never seen nor heard of, within any of the tomes inside his monastery in Gascony, or in any of his fel dreams. His reaction thusly is one of adrenal fear, and he jabs at the beast in an angelic howl:
"CORUUB SH'YA KEILISHRY'AH BERROUS!"
** spoiler omitted **
As the French prophet lunges forward to jab at the monstrosity, it lashes out a spiky tentacle....
rakes Jean for piercing damage, and attempts to grab the young Frenchman ....successfully! Jean is wrapped up in the vice-like grip of the otyugh!
1st Rd
After being caught completely off-guard by the Otyugh's approach and attack on Alphonse Veritas,....
Aghhh! Monster!
Iommi-Tyr Magnusson falls backward and panickedly scrabbles away from the thing in fright and then fumbles to hurriedly load his Crossbow .....
Oddly, neither Skeletons nor Gremlins nor Ghouls nor Gargoyles evoked this horrified reaction of panic and revulsion. But this "monster" is something completely out of the Norwegian scholar's experience -- or his nightmares.
It's attention momentarily distracted by Jean Lamarre, the otyugh fails to notice as Iommi-Tyr backpedals away from it, hurriedly slapping a bolt onto his antique hand crossbow!
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Hopefully near is as close to death Jean Lamarre will ever come.... He's a really fun character!
Jean's vision begins to blur from the real to the horrors of his visions as his blood and essence spill onto the dark floor.
As his spear clatters to the ground, he sees the glow of his friends' weapons begin to blaze into flames of Mercury, and demonic figures flit about the air.
The only constant within this grim scene -the grotesque being swallowing him whole- however, he can't quite figure out if it is real or a figment of his malefic dreams.
As his body begins to walk down the metaphysical stairs to Dystopia, the frenchmans' soul enters Rapture, and he begins within his mind's eye once again, to prophesy...
Round 2
Gritting his teeth Hisao moves in to flank and stabs at the bizarre monster
Finding the perfect spot to slam the blade into what looks like an eye socket Hisao tries to take advantage and really put the hurt on the aberration.
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Round 2
Gritting his teeth Hisao moves in to flank and stabs at the bizarre monster
[dice=Wazikashi]1d20+4+2;1d6+1
[dice=Sneak damage]1d6
Finding the perfect spot to slam the blade into what looks like an eye socket Hisao tries to take advantage and really put the hurt on the aberration.
[dice=critconfirm and damage]1d20+4+2;1d6+1
Hisao excises an eyeball, skewering it on his wakizashi with surgical precision, and whipping it off over his shoulder with the backswing, where it bounces with a wet splat off Iommi-Tyr's forehead! The monster howls a bloodcurdling howl and drops Jean Lamarre on the floor, stumbling in pain!
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In severe pain and suddenly afraid it has mistaken predators for prey, the monster shambles back the way it came, provoking attacks of opportunity from Alphonse, Hisao, Paddy, and Jean Lamarre....