The short zombie shambles onto the stairs towards Harrigan, and swipes at him with the length of heavy pipe it holds, but despite having the advantage of slightly higher ground the blow does not connect.
The much damaged large hairy zombie makes a similar attack against Brashen, but this one is much more accurate, slamming painfully into the man’s chest. Ribs crack beneath chainmail, and Brashen gasps for air.
The much damaged large hairy zombie makes a similar attack against Brashen, but this one is much more accurate, slamming painfully into the man’s chest. Ribs crack beneath chainmail, and Brashen gasps for air.
As Andolphas and Brashen both struggle under the onslaught of their opponents, Boland's concern starts to grow. He knows that they have to start putting pressure on the crazed necromancer, but he is running short on spells that will affect him.
Eventually he aims a spell at the large zombie still facing Brashen, hoping to free up the big warrior so he can put pressure on the necromancer.
Actually, you’re pretty much correct , they can only take a single action in a round, but they can still charge up to their movement, allowing them to move (in a straight line) and still attack. Although I described him as staggering or shambling or something, he was in fact charging at you ... I figure a zombie charge looks pretty much like a shamble. Despite the +2 for charging and the +1 for higher ground, he still wasn’t going to hit you with a roll of 2 ...
Of course, if it makes any difference, the meta-gamer in you should now realise his AC will be -2 until his next action due to the charge.
Also ...
The beam of light that springs from Boland’s hand hits the zombie facing Brashen – which slumps to the ground, unmoving, its motive force destroyed.
“Brashen, wait,” calls Andolphas gruffly, grabbing Brashen’s arm. “The Stern Lady’s blessings be upon you.” The priest quickly chants a few words, and a healing warmth spreads through the warrior as some of his wounds close.
1d20 + 2
The stench drifting from Andolphas's paralyzed form makes Boland sick to the stomach . Boland though doesn't seem particularly bothered.
At any rate, I had suggested you either cast a spontaneous cure or else use a scroll. So I guess in this case it was a scroll.
“We have to take down that wizard,” growls Brashen, stepping across the now inanimate corpse and jogging across the room, swinging his flail menacingly. “How dead do we want ‘im?”
Harrigan leans in attempting to crush one of the zombie's knees and slow it enough to make his escape.
Harrigan’s strike misses as he backs away.
“Don’t get too close, strong-man,” Filge calls to Brashen, backing away whilst making intricate motions with his hands. He points at the approaching warrior, and a coruscating ray springs from his finger, heading for Brashen – who manages to dodge aside from it.
“Oh gods damn it!” shrieks Filge, frustration evident in his voice. “Strong and quick? Where’s a good stereotype when you need it?”
“Subject Four, forget the dwarf, get over here! To me! Oh bloody hell, could you be any slower?!”
The short zombie shambles down into the operating theatre, past the table, making towards the north stairs.
The two reptilian zombies shift to stay far away from Andolphas, despite his paralyzed state, cowering against the walls.
Andolphas surveys the scene with wide-eyed terror, willing himself to move, yet completely unable to do so... Dark-Eyed Lady, he says in his mind, I implore you, hear your faithful servant's silent prayers and set me free from the foul magics conjured by this defiler of the dead so that I may do thine bidding and strike down this blasphemer...
The cleric's muscles remain rigid, preventing him from even speaking... At least I have not fallen over... His thoughts continue to race...
Brash grins despite the pain in his chest, sighting the wizard directly infront of him. The big man drops his flail and draws his battle axe as he breaks into a charge at the wizard, swinging with all his might at the man.
The cleric's muscles remain rigid, preventing him from even speaking... At least I have not fallen over... His thoughts continue to race...
Boland looks helplessly at Andolphas, unable to do anything to free him from his paralysis. Except to help kill Filge that is.
Seeing Filge fleeing from Brashen's determined advnace, Boland circles around the other side of the pit, hoping to help corner him.
Filge, worry etched in his pale face, fishes something out of a pocket and throws it at Brashen … it appears to be a small, yellowed finger bone. “Blaaagh!” he yells at the warrior , before scurrying away to wedge himself between the wall and one of the lighting apparatus
“Hurry up and protect me!” he yells to the short zombie, who moves away from Harrigan towards Filge
Brash stalks after the wizard, bringing his axe up over his head to swing down into the narrow gap where Filge cowers
Although the cramped quarters limit Filge’s movements, the lighting apparatus also provides some cover – the necromancer ducks down behind the mirror as Brashen’s axe swings towards him, and the weapon crashes into the apparatus instead, sending candles and metal mirrors flying, and plunging this quadrant of the room into gloomy shadow as the candles sputter out.
Although the cramped quarters limit Filge’s movements, the lighting apparatus also provides some cover – the necromancer ducks down behind the mirror as Brashen’s axe swings towards him, and the weapon crashes into the apparatus instead, sending candles and metal mirrors flying, and plunging this quadrant of the room into gloomy shadow as the candles sputter out.
Boland hurries up the room and takes a shot at the cowering necromancer from the other side of where he is huddled, squinting as the end of the tower is plunged into darkness.
]
Boland’s crossbow bolt is fired accurately enough, but it glances harmlessly off some un-seen force that protects Filge.
Harrigan moves up the stairs, through the wreckage of one of the cylinders trying to skirt around the zombie whilst moving to hem Filge in.
“No escape Filge,” says the dwarf.
Filge backs away from the dangerous warrior in front of him , then gestures towards Brashen, his hand glowing with faint blue light. The spectral hand, that has been hovering by the necromancer’s side, following him when he moves, swoops at Brash, passing straight through his chain, chilling and freezing the flesh beneath
Filge then grabs a liquid filled glass cylinder from a harness he wears and pops it into his syringe.
“Attack the warrior!” Filge yells at the short zombie, pointing at Brashen with the syringe.
The zombie steps forward and swipes at the warrior with the metal pipe it holds, but the blow glances clumsily off his chainmail armour.
“Attack the warrior!” Filge yells at the short zombie, pointing at Brashen with the syringe.
The zombie steps forward and swipes at the warrior with the metal pipe it holds, but the blow glances clumsily off his chainmail armour.
Boland quickly reloads his crossbow, takes aim, and fires at Filge once more.
Brash gasps as the hand plunges into his chest, letting out a roar of pain and anger.
Brash carefully steps away from the zombie filling the space just vacated by the wizard, determined to bring the mage down. We swings his axe again.
Filge ducks out of the way of Brashen’s axe once again ... but doesn’t notice Boland’s crossbow bolt flying towards him until it buries itself in his thigh.
“Oooh, aah,” moans Filge, staggering at clutching at the arrow sticking out of his leg ... but it’s a little hard to tell if his screams are cries of pain or ... pleasure?
Andolphas finally regains enough mobility in his body to raise his holy symbol yet again and call out to the Stern Lady. "My Lady, your humble servant begs your aid to drive back these abominations that have returned from the Great Beyond!"
At Andolphas’ declaration, Filge’s last zombie shambles away, cowering against the wall near its fellows.
“Oh bloody hell!” exclaims Filge, looking as much annoyed as worried.
Unhindered by the dim lighting, Harrigan steps up behind Filge with his morningstar cocked back over one shoulder and drives it down at the mage's knee. The dwarf grunts with the swing and growls at the warrior, "You ready to stop playing around? Take him from the other side. Let's finish this!"
Harrigan’s morning star smashes into the necromancer’s knees, forcing its way through any magical protection Filge may have. There is a sickening crack, and Filge’s leg bends backwards. He collapses with a howl, anguish mixed with sick pleasure, clutching at his leg, as blood darkens his pants leg – it seems that his broken shin bone has punctured the flesh.
“Oh, oh, oww! You broke me sodden leg you BASTARD!” Filge screams. With a shaking hand he manages to inject the contents of the syringe he holds into his leg above the knee, then crack his leg back into position, some of the colour returning to his face.
“Alright, alright! I surrender, I surrender. You’ve bested me. Take whatever you want, I’ll tell you whatever you want, I’ll sell Smenk out completely – just let me go.”
The dwarf looms over Filge ready to cave in his skull, "Get rid of the damn ghost hand!"
“Done, done,” Filge waves his (real) hand and the spectral one that hovers by his shoulder disappears.
"Smenk? What does he have to do with this... what is his interest in your ghastly deeds?" Andolphas hovers menacingly above the necromancer, and the somber young priest's countenance makes his face seem cold as that of death itself.
"You are a sick, perverted little man, Filge," murmurs the cleric as he points as he draws his ceremonial dagger and points it with a trembling hand at his foe's heart. "Where are the remains of the Land family?" he rasps. "Tell us that, and tell us of your motives and how Smenk ties into this nightmare, and you may yet live... if only for a little while... Help us not, and you'll be dispatched in the most agonizing way into the Great Beyond for the blasphemy and desecration you have wrought on this Oerth..."
Filge, still sitting on the floor and thoroughly surrounded by Harrigan, Brashen and Andolphas, is clearly intimidated. He looks up at Andolphas and licks his dry lips carefully as he shuffles on his backside a little away, back against the wall.
“Uh ... sorry guv, but who in the Hells are the Land family? And Smenk – how doesn’t he figure into this? He invited me here! All his idea you see ... There’s a letter, on my desk, proves it all. It’s his mess, I was just trying to do a favour for an old mate, you know? Ah,” he glances quickly at Harrigan, then looks away, “but I haven’t really made much headway yet ... just settling in here really, so far, getting some defences in place, can’t be too careful. Lots of thugs and yahoos in Diamond Lake I heard, a man can’t feel safe in his own house, I heard. No offense good sirs ...”
Brashen is happy to leave the questioning of Filge to the others, but looks in concern at the remaining undead. He turns to Andolphas.
'If I attack them while there like this will they fight back? How long will they remain cowed by your magic for?'
He turns to Andolphas.
'If I attack them while there like this will they fight back? How long will they remain cowed by your magic for?'
"I cannot approach them while they are compelled by the Lady to cower... if I do, the compulsion will be broken. But you can approach and destroy them, they should be unable to protect themselves... Beware, though, for the effect will wear off in little more than the time it takes to recite the Lady's hymn..."
Andolphas turns to look at Boland. "Take a look at the papers this filth is referring to--let's make sure he's telling the truth..."
Brash nods, and picking up his flail stalks over to the cowering zombies, and starts to pound flesh and bone into a sticky mess, starting with the first turned undead.
The strange zombies fall into quivering bloody heaps beneath Brashen’s weapon.
Tears well up in Filge's eyes.