The spark of life burns hot in Casns veins, and the black wave harms the second son just a little.
Clear blue eyes stare down the evil mage. Mot might feel weakened and unable to crush his foe, but he hopes his friends will rally and together drive out this darkness. The dire straits recall to mind a song that tells a tale of a desperate Casns battle lost ere he was a babe, the fallen men remembered as heroes. His look turns hard as steel to the foeman. Like them, he will have to forestall this enemy.
"Hoho, ye shood cherish theese mohments too, Zon Koo-Thon priest!"
His snaggle-toothed maw widens and he fills his enormous chest with air. The Casns hammers the head of the flail onto his wooden shield to the slow and resolute tune.
“Right proudly high over teh Casns’ Hald they hung out teh flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Urlghain sky than at Sarga or Gath afar
And from teh hills of loyal hearth strong men came hurrying through
While Thaleniel’s men, of the lake borne fen, marched to meet through teh foggy dew.”
Nme'an advances further up the hallway, and reaches the other door to a small room that hangs open. The stink of blood draws his eyes, and he sees an emaciated body laying on a bed in the far corner. Stripped to his smallclothes, the man has wounds carved over his chest, arms, legs, and face. His wrists and ankles are bound to the corners of the wooden bed frame. An unsavory array of blades, bludgeons, scoops, and pincers are on the table beside the bed. Some of the injuries are crusted black, and in others the blood is still fresh. This appears to be a torture victim, and despite the blindfold, the matted hair and unkempt dark beard, the Knight Lieutenant recognizes this person as his former mentor, Sir Montague Belarand!
The shallowest rise and fall of the flayed chest tells Nme'an that this man's life hangs by a thread.
Themp takes the full blunt of the evil energy. He was never much of a religious man, but he was sure his soul was on fire for a moment there. He feels like falling down, taking a rest, but the sight of the Urghlain stumbling on his feet keeps the scoundrel standing.
The singing, however... The singing actually lifts his mood, Themp is surprised to notice. The barbarian has actually got some inspiring lyrics.
"Is that it, you slimy fiend?" Themp boasts loudly, a sly smile creeping up on his face. I hope loud enough for the half-elves to come. "You'll certainly have to do way better than that to bring the both of us down!"
EDIT:
Beorae follows Nme’an closely. When they get to the door, she glances into the room that started this disaster and finally takes a moment to look at the torture victim.
The druidess draws in a sharp breath as she takes in the severity of the man’s wounds. She drops her torch and rests her palm on the back of Nme’an’s shoulder and whispers, ”Yeye mbali sana amekwenda kuwa msaada sasa…”. She says a quick druidic incantation, channeling guiding energy into the paladin.
His prey yelps as Shark tears shreds of fur and flesh from the black wolf, but soon the dying beast seems insubstantial. Like oily black smoke, the form dissipates to nothing.
After Themp’s arrow pierces his leg, the evil priest sneers at the bellowing highlander and spins out of reach, retreating to the shadows at the center of the room.
The Knight Lieutenant hears a voice call out from the dark ahead of him. “Your eyes were not made for the dark, elf, and neither was your mind. Come forward, and let it’s unraveling begin…”
As the words echo off the stone walls, the grey man wearing a skull on his chest reveals himself the end of the hall. In one hand, his heavy spiked chains, and he holds up the other hand that swirls with an icy blue energy. Black eyes leer at the paladin, eager to watch the madness sink in.
Nme'an blinks once then stalks towards then around the rogue...
...then calls "Shark attack!" to Beorea's now free tiger some fifty feet away.
As the knight shuffles his way past the grey man, his adversary plants his glowing blue hand squarely onto Nme'an's armored chest. Frost spreads over the steel plates for a moment, freezing the half-elven skin underneath. The hand continues to glow blue. The paladin moves quickly and is able to position himself behind the grey man, but as he steps further into the room, there stands an exact copy of the evil priest. Some trickery is plainly afoot, but which one is the real priest?
Nme'an moves around the strange dark man who challenged him, and raises his sword in anticipation of Sharks arrival distracting his foe.
for
The dark priest whose icy spell just touched him... is not the priest at all! The paladin now sees through the faint outline of the magical disguise, and finds the grey assassin underneath. He does not carry a spiked chain, but a long and sharp knife.
Oh, no, you don't Themp thinks to himself, chasing after the haunting figure. He carefully avoids the clusters of caltrops, perhaps wasting too much time, but manages to catch a glimpse of the fiend far away into the corridor. Trying not to draw his attention, Themp takes careful aim and shoots perhaps the hardest shot he has ever attempted.
As the arrow sails, he looks over to Mot, worried about the sickeningly aspect of his injures.
"Big man, are you alright?"
Themp can see the blood running heavily down the side of Mot head, and the other gouges and cuts he sustained in this battle -wounds that would bring down lesser men. But the undaunted Casns regards him with fierce blue eyes and his goofy snaggle-toothed grin.
“Ah coold use a drenk rright about naow…” he jokes with his favorite drinking buddy. Suddenly his look brightens with an idea. “Och! Ah DO haev a drenk rright noaw!”
The handle of his flail clatters to the floor as the big man digs something out of his pocket: a glass vial. He holds it up a little too closely to Themp's face. “A magic drenk! Down teh hatch!”
In one hearty gulp its contents are emptied, and the highlander smacks his lips.
Invigorated, his enormous chest inflates and he begins the next verse of his song.
“Oh teh night fell black, and teh thunder crack gave teh mountain giants battle zeal
In teh leaden rain, did teh ground they gain and crash o'er teh lines of steel
By each shining blade a prayer was said, that to Urlghain her sons be true
But when morning broke, still teh war flag shook out its folds in teh foggy dew.”
At Nme’an’s shout, Beorae rolls into the doorframe and relays the paladin's command to Shark to attack the evil priest at the end of the hall. The grey cat tears down the hallway at full speed, fangs bared, and lunges at the man.
for
As her companion streaks by, the druidess begins a summoning chant in the relative safety of the door frame.
Themp’s arrow skips off the square wooden table, just an inch from his target, and bounces into the shadows. Nme’an’s sword glances off chainmail, while Shark sinks his teeth into the nearest dark priest.
The grey tiger’s eyes see through the false visage of the priest. Beneath the faint outline, Shark’s teeth actually chomp down onto the assassin!
The black-garbed cleric turns to the paladin and begins to gesture with one pale hand and speaks a long incantation, locking his black eyes on the divine warrior. The grey fingers twitch like spider legs at the half-elf.
The words cease and the skull-wearing mage ends the gesture with a tightly closed fist. Suddenly, Nme’an senses that his magical ward against evil no longer protects him. Finished with his spell, the skull-wearer steps back toward the base of the stairs before closing in on the Dawnflower knight. He shakes the spiked chains menacingly. The twin priest flicks his freezing blue hand out toward Nme’an’s face. But the paladin sees through the trick and lowers his shield in time to block the spiked chains swinging for his gut. The paladin bears the brunt of the attacks, and the dangerous and shadowy assassin from before remains unseen.
The cleric cast a spell to undo the magic that protects the paladin from evil.
Nme’an can see that it was a short sword that he blocked with his shield, not spiked chains!
Nothing in the room with the tortured man seems like a prominent key to victory over these dark creatures. The walls are bare of any decoration. The motionless victim is tightly bound to the wooden bed posts, though it seems odd that the captive has not made any attempt to make himself known to the enemies of his tormentors -the sounds of battle are not exactly quiet.
The dining hall half-lit by Nme’an’s glowing sword, and she can see the edge of another light, perhaps from Mot or Themp, coming from the other side. She can also see two identical forms of the grey man who brought darkness and summoned evil creatures, but both appear to be flesh and bone as they attack the other half-elf. The spell of darkness that dampens the fireplace and the everburning torches at the tables is not a spell she can reverse, though the light magic of the half-elves and Mot have countered it somewhat. She does not think the darkness spell affects temperature, so the coals of the fireplace must still be blazing hot -the grey men would certainly burn if they were pushed into the hearth. She takes one final scan of part of the dining hall before beginning her summoning chant, and notices the table where she found Eleanor reading. A moment of inspiration tells her that if something were to join the melee from on top of a table, it might be harder for the foes to defend themselves against attacks from a higher ground.
Sensing he is about to be flanked, Nme'an steps back and away from the two dark attackers.
"Tear him apart," he instructs the tiger.
Absolutely mad, Themp thinks to himself, unable to contain a grin. His target moves before he can re-aim, but the scoundrel positions himself further up, using the wall as a concealment for his attack. Spotting the priest yet again, he fires.
The evil priest's spiked chain whips down and crashes against the paladin's heavy armor, making a harmless clamor as Nme'an gives Shark the inspirational instruction.
Themp hears tiny, running footfalls down the hallway behind him. Sudden silence, then the small feet slap loudly on the stone floor as they land on the other side of the caltrops. The wiry, red-scaled frame of Olp tumbles out of the shadows. One arm carries his heavy shield, and the other claw is armed with one of Gixard's curved chopping blades. The other is tucked snug under his belt. His golden eyes flit up to Mot, not noticing the archer whatsoever.
"Here to help," he croaks, already eyeing the foes that engage the knight.
The towering highlander grins down at the small red lizard, glad to see him join the pitched battle.
"Oh teh bravest fell, and teh requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who fought above Bloomrot in teh springing of teh year
While teh world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few,
Who bore teh fight that freedom's light might shine through teh foggy dew"
Roaring the next verse, the Casns feels his heart stir with family pride. Before he is aware, his shield lays cast aside and his long legs speed him toward the battle, the shining ancestral blade held aloft. Seeing two of the same foul cleric, he slashes the large sword across at the nearest one!
The grey man ducks in time and Mot's greatsword bites into the stone wall, scattering chips of rock from the mighty blow. He wrests the glowing steel free.
Beorae finishes muttering her incantation and with a soft "pop!", a flying creature appears in the room next to the man Shark is attacking.
---
Shark growls at the trick of the light, realizing that his opponent is different than he first appeared. He takes a step forward and lunges at the rogue.
---
The druidess steps back into the hallway, close enough to Shark to lay a hand on his rear flank as he attacks the man around the corner. She channels healing energy from her wand into the wounded tiger.
Themp’s arrow flies high over Nme’an’s and the wicked mage’s head.
The oversized mosquito hovers right over one of the twin clerics. An unsettlingly large proboscis uncoils and plunges itself deep into the grey man’s neck, and immediately its dangling legs latch on. The grey man with the glowing blue hand twitches at the sucker and hisses in pain as Shark proceeds to gouge him with teeth and claws.
Seeing themselves surrounded and beset by all manner of creatures, the other evil priest holds his spiked chains aside to boldly display the dark skull that hangs by metal hooks in his chest. A pulse of blackish-purple energy washes outward bathing all nearby in a power that weakens their very core.
As the burst of foul energies thin, Beorae sees her summoned creature wither and decay until it collapses and vanishes with a pop! The two grey men seem unharmed by the black waves. Free of the pest, yet weakened by its bite, the unholy priest flashes his blue hand at the tiger!
This time the big grey cat sees through the trick and he twists to protect his soft underbelly from the underhanded spiked chains. Still, part of the cleric's weapon comes away bloody! After the strike, the grey man steps away with his back to the corner.
The wave of black energy seems to pass through physical barriers! Despite the clamor of battle, the weakest of death rattles can be heard from the room with the tortured man. The bound victim is seconds away from a dark and painful end!
Nme'an steels himself against the priest's wave of negative energy and is about to attack when...
...he hears a terrible sound come from the tortured man in the nearby room. With the distance too far and the two nearby enemies Nme'an shouts "Save him!" to Beorea then moves in to attack...
... and misses.
“'Twas Vyren bade our wild geese go, that we small clans might be free;
By Crógan’s first, teh family cursed, did Naert hack and Saor slain three
Oh, had they died by Siongahr’s side or fought with Cathal Bragheu
Their graves we'd keep where the proud Casns sleep, 'neath the shroud of the foggy dew.”
Mot unleashes the final verse, this time taking careful aim at the shadowy man backed into a corner.
Olp charges, keeping his new blade low until the last moment.
The curved knife arcs upward, slicing up along the leg and hilt deep into the grey man’s innards. Dark blood spills out over the stone floor, and the kobold viciously tears the blade away. The grey man spasms in pain before collapsing in a pool of his own blood. Not a second longer, his visage flickers and revealed to the combatants is the sight of the dark assassin, dying of his wounds!
Inspired by both the thunderous song and the little kobold's attack, Themp also rushes forth and shoots at the priest from up close.
Beorae sees the priest reach for the skull and braces herself for the impending wave of pain. When the wave hits, she feels an immense blow, but even moreso, hears Shark's roar of pain and anger. "Shark!" She's about to try and heal her companion again when she hears the man in the next room. The druidess reels as Nme'an calls out, and rushes into the room to help save the man's life.
Shark, injured and bleeding, sidesteps to the priest, barring his teeth at the man, golden eyes bright and furious. He growls low and then lunges at the man.
for
for
for
Beorae manages to stabilize the bound middle-aged man. He jolts, startled when she first touches him, but then seems resigned to the care. His eyes and ears are wrapped in a bloody blindfold, and his bearded jaw clamps shut. The captive is very weak, and now, thanks to Beorae's healing arts, no longer dying.
The dark priest’s eyes blaze with eagerness at the sight of his fallen comrade and he bares a smile that shows sooty gums.
After a graceful retreat from the grey tiger, he issues a prayer and his many wounds appear to close.
“Let the blessings of pain begin anew!” he shrieks with anticipation.
"Enough of that," Nme'an calls to the priest as he too channels a wave of healing energy.
"I will match you spell for spell, blow for blow while the others close in on you and end you like they did your companion. But, if you surrender, I will make sure you are treated fairly."
As the healing energy washes over Olp, he quickly kneels down beside the fallen assassin. Pressing his small blade against the pale neck, the dragonkin makes a swift motion. Black blood runs thickly as the last of the assassin’s life oozes over the floor.
Mot takes long strides around the wood table, closing in on the dark priest. He brings down his enormous sword!
The ancestral blade clashes against the heavy chains as the grey man deflect the blow.
Realizing the group isn't actually going to wait for the gauntly figure's response, Themp nocks another arrow, takes a deep breath and lets loose at the priest, point-blank.
Shark gives chase, scampering under the table to get to the far side of the priest before the man can fully retreat.
With the knight at least stabilized, Beorae attempts to heal the worst of his wounds.
The bound captive stirs a little, but seems to be wavering in and out of consciousness.
"You mistake the purpose of a Kuthite, warrior of the sun," snarls the dark priest. "With Eleanor gone, I am free to spread the darkness of The Midnight Lord to all…”
An arrow pierces his side, and it nearly distracts him from the tiger rushing alongside him. His grey hands flicker with the faintest energy as he whips the chains down onto Shark’s back.
The blow draws the beast’s ferocity, and dark blood spills from the evil cleric’s claw wounds.
“Yesss…” he gasps, his horrid face twisting with pain and delight. Taking a defensive posture, he spins the chain back again toward the big grey cat!
The gnarly weapon batters the mighty beast, and Shark flops to the ground from his many injuries. Reveling in his carnage, the dark priest steps up onto the table, stooped to defend himself from his attackers. He rattles the chains as a menacing challenge to the men that stand below him.
“Behold, I bring the blessing of death!”
A wave of disorientation rolls over Beorae and she falls to her knees as her legs give out. Uncertain of the source, she shakes her head and takes in her surroundings again, focusing on breathing. Keep him alive…, she reminds herself, and reaches out again with the wand to heal the knight on the bed.
Nme'an first instinct is to flip the table...
...which he does with help. The knight then moves to the Priest's side, sword at the ready.
...but it proves too heavy to budge, so Nme'an too hops up and moves to confront the priest.
Seeing the beloved big cat fall in battle, Mot eyes blaze with fury at the dark mage. Seeing him take the high ground, the weakened highlander pushes the pommel of his blade against underside of the table to upend the surface on which the priest stands.
His worries turn to the injured beast, and without a second thought for the enemy he lowers himself beside Shark. The predator fights death with vigor, but his wounds are many. At a loss, Mot runs a comforting hand through bloody fur.
"Yoo'll bea alrright, wee kitteh. Ah gotcher..."
With the combined efforts of the knight and berserker, the table under the cleric flips over! The dark priest flails and tumbles to the ground. The black garbed figure sprawls at the feet of Nme'an.
Shocked by the sight of the mighty tiger collapsing, Themp can't help but feel a sheer wave of anger taking over his body. His plan of jumping over the table, however, is thwarted by the priest's own twist of it. As the haunting figure crashes down mere 10 feet away, the scoundrel moves over his body and draws the dagger, taking no time to stab him.
Themp swiftly drives down the point of his dagger, right at the fallen priest’s chest. The blade cleaves through the skull chained over the Kuthite’s heart, and black blood spurts out from the mortal wound. The fetchling locks eyes with the archer as an insane, toothy smile takes his face.
“Now we all die!” he rasps, spitting up blood. The sundered chest piece explodes with black energy and fragments of bone! The dark wave washes over all but Beorae and the unconscious knight!
cries the Casns. He throws himself over the helpless tiger in an effort to shield him from the blast. A swirl of amber light courses over Shark as the big man covers him, but Mot’s form takes the brunt of the deathly magic. Both lay motionless as the darkness subsides.
The evil priest lays dead, an exploded bloody hole where his chest should be, and his profane unholy symbol scattered to tiny bits all around him.
Olp’s wiry frame is collapsed over the dark assassin’s corpse, red scales withered and blotched dark by the cleric’s final and devastating attack.
The battle between the champions of Thaleniel and these shadowy cultists is won, but at what cost?
Nme'an weathers the blast of negative energy as well as anyone but is unable to shield himself from the explosion.
Fearing for the others, especially Shark and Mot, he rights himself then channels waves of positive energy.
Before he can even brace himself from the explosion, Themp is knocked unconscious by the sheer magic outburst. His body collapses instantly, dozens of tiny shards of bone studding his skin.
Nme’an stands alone at the end of the battle, surrounded by fallen foe and friend alike. Wave after wave of healing energy washes over the bodies, and none stir save for Themp. The thief wakes up on the ground, still very hurt from the fight.
It is not until Nme'an's last pulse of healing that big Urlghain form heaves upward! Shark slips out from underneath, still bloody from several wounds but alive. Mot slumps back down and his body remains still. Likewise, Olp does not get up after the waves of holy light. In fact, the wounds of both Mot and Olp do not seem to close whatsoever.
Themp stirs, sore all over. Slowly, he begins to pick the shrapnel from his skin. He notices the quietness except for Nme'an, his vision still darkened.
"What... what happened? Where is everyone?"
Nme'an looks to Olp and Mot, desperate for any signs of life.
The sound of the blast rips Beorae’s attention away from the knight and the world becomes slow. She scrambles to her feet, unsure legs making her feet slip on the stone floor. Rounding the corner, she takes in the scene. The druidess hurls herself toward Mot and Shark and tears fill her eyes as she collapses on the floor next to her companions. Green eyes grow wide with relief as she sees the tiger move on his own. She helps Shark get free, and bloody hands pry at the big man, trying to find the worst of his wounds. ”Mot! Mot! Can you hear me?”
Desperate, she uses the wand, attempting to channel healing magic into Mot.
Nme'an takes a close look at Olp, feeling for breath at his snout, checking for a pulse, but finds no sign of life. He notices spores coating the kobold's throat and inner nostrils, which indicate a residual weakness from a couple days before, but he concludes the cause of the death for this terse and unlikely ally to be the negative energy burst from the evil cleric.
Beorae is inspecting the highlander before he can get a closer look, but he knows it doesn't look good. The druidess pulls and Mot rolls limply to his back, and her frantic search finds no breath, paling skin, and utter stillness from where his heart should beat loudly. The magic of the wand enters Mot's body, but does not seem to have any effect.
Mot, the Wolfsbane, Slayer of Monsters, Swimmer of Rivers, Champion of Thaleniel, and the second son of Casns, is dead.
Nme'an approaches Beorea with slow heavy steps and grips her shoulder perhaps too tightly while saying, "He is dead. Come, let us begin our bitter work."
The knight lieutenant moves away without waiting for a reply and limps back down the hallway into the shadows. A minute passes, then another before he returns carrying Gixard, the goblin's arms and legs hog tied behind it. He drops it face down in one of the unoccupied rooms, away from any objects that may help it get free were it to awake, then slams the door unceremoniously shut.
"Now, which should we start with?" Nme'an asks gravely."They each deserve their own separate type of funeral."
Nme'an's words come as if the priest had exploded again. Themp's vision blurs once more, the edges blackening out. Looking around for some sort of giveaway that it was just a joke, a prank, his eyes rests on Olp's limp form. Themp hasn't felt this sad ever since... He honestly can't remember. And he can't honestly help but put the blame on himself.
"What have I done." he whimpers, staring unfocusedly at the wall behind Olp.
Beorae leans back and slowly lifts her shaking hands from Mot's body. She's not sure how long she sits there, eyes unfocused, attempting to simply breathe – it could have been seconds or hours, but the slamming of the door startles her back to attention. She blinks when Themp speaks, first looking quizzically at the rogue and then to the paladin.
"What? Why? … What… what happened?"
Nme’an is quiet for a long moment, as if it is taking time to burry his anger before he answers. Finally, he closes his eyes, lets out a sigh, and says, ”Olp had slain the first of these two and Shark had attacked the second only to take a hard hit in return. The priest... he jumped on the table, but we flipped out from under him and had him...”
Nme’an looks over to Mot’s body, pausing for a moment before he is able to continue. ”Themp delivered what should have been a killing blow but the priest unleashed one last cursed spell. It ripped his body apart and its power killed Olp though he was behind me. It would have killed Shark to, but Mot wrapped the tiger tight and I do not know how but shielded Shark from the magic of the blast.”
A groan from the next room draws the Knight Lieutenant’s attention and after a moment’s hesitation Nme’an moves to check on his mentor.
”Sir Montague, it is Nme’an. You are safe now. Do not try and move. We will let you down so that you can rest.” Nme’an whispers to his mentor as he lays a hand on his shoulder and begins working on undoing his bonds.
"I didn't... I couldn't have known that would happen... Could I?"