A dream trap . . . that is a dangerous and dark magic. Illusions are but dreams given breath. They are but shadows of the mind, and shadows are mine to control.
While Niyut is trying to recall the traditional ways to escape a dream trap, she looks for any representational magic that might be binding her here and attempts to change the dream by force of will just as she changes an illusion by concentrating.
Glaring as he considers the undead's stubborn refusal to resort to something other than combat, Garidan decides to oblige the obstinate corpse. Stepping around the tomb, he darts forward and drives his rapier straight for the fleshless grin with an angry shout, hoping that his sudden switch to aggression will put the creature off of its stride.
But his quick reactions once again proved fortuitous as he nimble dodged the massive blade.
Mustering every ounce of will she has, Niyut feels the walls of the chamber expand and contort. Bits of stone and dust fall from the ceiling as its integrity begins to fail. Then she recoils and releases her hold on the dream world about her, and the room returns to its original shape.
The knight roars in anger and hurls its greatsword at the floating oracle above him.
The blade flies directly at Niyut. Raising her arms to protect herself, she feels the sharp pain of her flesh tearing. The greatsword clatters upon the ground, as the phantom armor prepares to move to retrieve it.
The eagle violently attacks the armored knight but is unable to penetrate its defenses. In retaliation, the knight swings its greatsword at the bird...
and sends it back to its celestial realm.
When the armored figure climbs to its feet, Truk'tosh lashes out with the butt-end of his axe at its gauntleted hand.
After dodging its retaliatory strike, Truk moves away toward the tomb. Finding it sealed, he gives the lid a shove.
As the armored undead knight climbs to its feet, Truk'tosh takes advantage of the situation and slams the end of his axe into the pommel of the sword. The knight reacts too slowly and isn't able to catch the half-orc lunging forward. The chamber echoes as the greatsword clangs off the stone floor.
Truk'tosh runs to the tomb and attempts to lift the heavy, stone lid to reveal its contents, but the half-orc doesn't possess the strength to move such an object. With a roar of anger, he shoves the lid one last time before turning to meet the approaching knight. Perhaps it was his fury or perhaps it was something else within him, but the stone lid flies from the tomb and shatters into dust upon the far wall.
The half-orc turns to see the knight charging at him.
One weapon down wouldn't normally be that much of an issue, but the rogue really needed to distract his opponenet here.
"Have it your way. See if you can keep up!"
The nimble Gruskorb disengaged from his opponent and dashed to another corner of the room, studying his opponent's movement as he inevitably approached.
Malz stands helplessly by, as his reserve of magic runs extremely low.
Blinking in confusion as he reflexively avoids the return stroke, Garidan briefly examines his weapon, then turns a gaze laden with suspicion upon his target. "Right, that was not the result that I should have gotten. I know I hit you true with that thrust," he says accusingly as he shifts back out of reach again. "Something's definitely not right about this, not at all." With a grimace, Garidan moves to the chamber's far end in an effort to buy some uninterrupted time to consider the situation.
Once there, back to the wall, he takes the time to visually examine the tomb itself, as best as he can given the distance between them; if the chamber provided no clues, and the undead doesn't have anything that stands out--aside from that highly suspect response to attack--then perhaps the tomb holds the key. Warily eyeing the relentless approach of his foe, Garidan is certain that a proper inspection will require time, and that means that his foe will have to be lured over to this end of the chamber.
The creature slowly lumbers towards you with what you now notice as a sizable limp.
The armored undead knight moves quickly towards you and swings his greatsword in a powerful, low attack. The hobgoblin tries to move back to avoid the blow, but the blade catches the back of his thigh. Blood gushes from the open wound as Gruskorb winces in pain.
Hoping the warhammer might be the key to defeating the tomb's skeletal guardian, Truk reaches for it.
To this end, he sought to negate the being's method of attack by disarming him. He aimed his whip's strike just beyond the hilt...
Niyut tries to wrench herself from the dream. This foul magic could not contain her. She reaches deep into herself drawing upon the growing well of energy that she had consumed since the world ended.
Quiet, I'm thinking.
No, you're freezing up! Help them!
With what? I am out of summons.
What kind of bloody wizard are you?!
One that's extremely low on magic.
Get creative!
I thought about levitating them out but I could only save one.
Not good enough, think.
That's it! There's nothing else! I'll have to pick one and-
You're f+~!ing hopeless. Take a chance.
Take a chance...
Malz looks at the pit, knowing it will end soon and raise their attacker. Enough time for this to maybe work... Malz pulls himself down to the floor, floating invisible next to the bodies. Than he whispers a spell, and a silent image of himself appears next to them. He continues focusing on the illusion as the knight raises to see them once more. As he rises, Malz focuses on the illusion of himself, making him mimic what looks like a teleportation spell. As the illusion of himself completes the spell and mouths an incantation, Malz says the words for the incantation he's not nearly powerful enough to cast, and then he quickly changes the illusion to make it look like the entire party has vanished into thin air!
Malz waits quietly, maintaining the illusion as his heart pounds.
Only power can break this enchantment. I do not have such power myself, but my gift is in forging connections with those who do.
There are no shadows in this dream, which distresses Niyut. However, to her more than shadow has been given. When Teysura had comforted Niyut, the Sacred Mother had granted her some part of her light. Moreover, Niyut had beheld her radiant form twice in the world of spirit. As a spirit guide, Niyut can forge connection with greater and lesser spirits. She hopes that when she calls the Sacred Mother will answer.
"Sacred Mother, my comforter, I am be-spelled by vile magic. I beg you, spirit of life, to bring me surcease. Teysura, I humbly ask that you come forth. Illuminate me in the darkness of this nightmare. Please free me from the predations of this perversion of life."
Niyut reaches deep within her spirit to where the light that Teysura had graced her with beats like a living heart. She could not force the great spirit to help her. This spirit is beyond her ability to command. Yet, Teysura has protected Niyut since she cleansed the sacred font of her son. Teysura comforted her after she was violated by another spirit. Most importantly, Enasilaor had written that Teysura helps those who ask her when their need is dire.
Sometimes trust and openness are more efficacious than cunning and power, though it pains Niyut to admit this to herself.
The spirit guide grasps the burning heart within her and opens herself to the great spirit . . .
Growling in annoyance, Garidan makes his move toward the tomb, swinging wide to avoid his armored foe's weapon, then rushing to the tomb. Once there, at corner furthest from the lumbering undead, he uses the light from his ioun torch to look it over more closely. [b]"Something is definitely off about this entire situation,"[/dice] he mutters in frustration while taking occasional looks at the oncoming undead. [b]"Everyone else is gone, the room is sealed, and this bone bastard didn't even blink when I hit him. That last is patently ridiculous, since every other undead I've struck has practically come apart lately. Even with that armor, there's no way I didn't get him with a true hit."[/dice]
The creature slowly lumbers towards you with what you now notice as a sizable limp.
Grukorb's whip lashes out at the undead's blade but the knight was too quick. Lifting his sword high, he briefly exposes a weakspot in his armor that protects his left ribcage before bringing it down upon the hobgoblin. The sword's hilt strikes the rogues right hand, and the whip falls to the ground.
Venturing a quick glance towards the tomb, Gruskorb can see the grey, stone lid remains sealed atop of it.
The knight swings its sword at the eagle but catches only air. The violent nature of its swing, throws the undead off balance and it drops its greatsword.
Just then she feels the ceiling pressing down upon her. She looks up and sees that the dome above her is drawing towards the ground. Her eyes gaze below and she sees the phantom armor with its hands raised as if it reaches for the young half-orc and the ceiling above her.
The half-orc shifts his weight back and watches the blade pass harmlessly.
When Niyut opens her eyes she sees the glowing mac and the beckoning undead. She is not afraid. The great spirit of Life is with her. She understands the peril before her. Where there is understanding there can be mastery.
"Thank you, Sacred Mother"
Remembering the words of Dtukk Flamefest and what she saw in the sacred font, Niyut reaches a hand up in a grasping motion, as if she were taking up a great mantle. The light in the room gathers around her form, threaded through with the light of the heart beating within her. She imagines this light as a ward that swaths her, blinding her enemy with the great spirit's light and thwarting its attack.
Garidan looks closely at the tomb to see intricate carvings rise up from the hard, grey granite. Multiple images of a rapier crossed with a mandolin are interspersed with the coiling image of a great wyrm. The seal on the heavy lid is only interrupted by several small openings for the lifting bars to be slipped in to raise or lower the lid.
As the light subsides, Truk'tosh sees that there mains of the armored knight is no where to be found within the chamber. Turning his head in all directions, the room fades from view as a blackness overtakes him.
He stooped to grab the first weapon knocked-out of his hands before turning to face the near-certain onslaught of his adversary.
Garidan looks closely at the tomb to see intricate carvings rise up from the hard, grey granite. Multiple images of a rapier crossed with a mandolin are interspersed with the coiling image of a great wyrm. The seal on the heavy lid is only interrupted by several small openings for the lifting bars to be slipped in to raise or lower the lid.
With a loud shriek, the undead knight turns and lumbers toward Garidan.
The armored knight spins and follows Gruskorb, slashing at him with the greatsword he wields deftly.
Another violent slash buckles the knees of the hobgoblin.
Malthazir's attention is drawn to a loud, grinding noise. The pit in front of the tomb fills in magically as it raises the armored knight and a celestial eagle back into the chamber. The knight turns and slashes at the eagle, dispatching it to another plane just as he reaches the surface.
The elf's ears perkup as the gurgling sound of hobgoblin lying on the ground behind him brings concern. He convulses once and spits a mouthful of blood upon the stone floor. Lying next to him, the multiple images of the young oracle suddenly open their eyes and raise their heads from the cold, stone floor. They give a look of surprise and bewilderment as they see Malthazir leaning over the unconscious body of her brother. A grimace emits from the knight as a piece of armor from its left leg falls to the ground with a clatter.
With a violent shake, Truk'tosh goes rigid then rolls to his back with a moan. Opening his eyes, he sees the domed ceiling high above. As his eyes come into focus, he looks upon the relieved face of his elven companion. The knight staggers as the pair of vambraces covering its arms detaches from the breastplate and drops to the ground.
Far to the back of the group Garidan remains unchanged.
It doesn't take much of an inspection for Garidan to figure out the best way to remove the lid, and he can't suppress a broad smile as he spies just the tool that he needs at his feet. Stooping, he snatches up the prybar and works it one-handed into one of the empty slots, then throws all of the strength he can muster into getting the lid moving. Unfortunately for him, the moment he puts his back into it, a feeling of deep dread washes over him, and his eyes snap to the lid and the bar gripped in his whitening knuckles; something very bad is about to happen, and though he knows this, he also knows there's not a thing he can do to prevent it.
However, the lumbering undead collides with the unseen pry bar sticking out from the end of the tomb. Th resulting crash sends the greatsword clattering to the ground while the knight grabs hold of the iron bar is it begins to fall.
The orb of frost explodes when it comes in contact with the horror that had menaced their dreams.
Sorry, Querkus. Looks like you won't be getting to see your home well after all. I might be joining you in this spirit business though...
Taking a step back defensively, the aegean extended his free hand towards his enchanted weapon on the ground nearer the tomb. His quivering arm and desperate will called towards the whip ... and it answered.
He lashed-out at the menace before him once more, knowing he would have to disarm the creature with its accurate slices if he had any hope to survive.
If he could not bring the foe's sword away to buy him some time, there was no way to exploit the gap in his armor.
He watched his lash move towards its target, dictating destiny for him.
It was but a dream of mine... how I wished it came true...
Gruskorb's whip shaps out and lashes on to the creatures arm. The hobgoblin pulls with all the strength he possess, yet the ship uncoils and slides off the armored knight. A final desperate attempt to disarm the undead knight has failed.
Gruskorb gasps as he sees the blade coming down at him. He feels the intense pain as it enters body where his neck meets his torso. As he collapses to the ground, the rogue looks up at the undead knight. A warm, wet feeling overtakes him as he begins to drown. Then all goes black.
Still lying on the floor, Niyut points the Mysterious Bog Oak Wand at the undead knight. With a burst of ethereal energy, ice and frost explode from its tip. The frigid energy strikes the knight squarely in the chest but does not appear to affect the creature in the least. Truk'tosh snatches up his axe and scrambles to his feet.
The creature raises its arms in victory as several dents upon its breastplate repair themselves. The young oracle snaps her head to the left as she hears the breath of Gruskorb leave his body. The hobgoblin contorts violent then goes limp.
A quick glance tells her that Gruskorb still lives, but his final breathes are moments away.
Once again armed, Truk'tosh steps up to engage the skeletal monster. He repeats the manuever that served him well moments ago, whipping the weighted tail of his armor at his opponent before bringing his weapon down for two swift powerful blows.
"Yénillor mornë
tulintë i quettar
Tercáno Nuruva.
Hlasta...
Quetis Ilfirimain.
Hlasta...
Quetis Ilfirimain:
Corma turien te
Corma tuvien
Corma tultien te
Huinessë nutien.
Tercáno Nuruva.
Tuvien Corma tultien te
Huinessë nutien
Corma turien te Corma..."