Kveldulf tilts his head slightly thinking over Vladimir's proposition. You'd imagine he'd be squinting his left eye if he had a left eye to squint.
"I'm good at what I do young knight but I see good things in you. I must talk with the spirits before I can give you an answer to your offer. Mayhap before then we could simply exchange a horn of mead for a few skulls bashed if need be? After this little incident is finished I'll give you my answer, Tyr as my witness. Now let us begone!"
The Captain grunts and leads your band up the hill to Thorolf's hall, an elegant structure of wood and thatch. The main door lies ajar and the light of a fire can be seen. The sun has set and the stars are beginning to gradually shine above in the heavens. Voices in argument can be overheard from within. One croaking voice you identify as Egil's rises above the din, "You have heard the evidence. What say you?"
Vlad enters first, flinging the door open dramatically (after all, he muses, the bards must get their share of drama) and speaks.
"Hold! We challenge this hearing! Unn meant no man any harm!"
Vlad enters first, flinging the door open dramatically (after all, he muses, the bards must get their share of drama) and speaks.
"Hold! We challenge this hearing! Unn meant no man any harm!"
As you burst in to the hall, the young knight leading the way, a stunned silence falls upon the tribunal broken by the distinct sound of swords being quickly loosed from their scabbards. Inside is a circle of six men stunned by your arrival. On either side of the circle are two of Egil's men who stand ready for trouble. A quick glance indicates these men are old hands and are not to be as easily shaken as the green recruits you encountered in the field.
You can see a circle of six men, townsfolk and clan elders, assembled on various stools and stumps. In the centre of the circle a small fire blazes illuminating the room. Standing next to the fire is a defiant Unn grasping her ashen staff. Upon seeing you enter a visible expression of relief crosses her wrinkled face. Also within the circle like a piece of evidence on display is a grizzled old man with long gray hair and a thick beard lying motionless upon a crude cot senseless to the world. His breath appears laboured and shallow. You assume this to be the Earl Thorolf. Outside the circle leaning against the thick wooden pillars stand a collection of guards four in all who hold their irons or spears ready for trouble.
Strangely, Egil is not be seen. You instinctively sense a presence away from the circle towards the end of the hall away from the light of the fire. You can discern amidst the shadows the shape of a figure sitting upon a great lord's chair. From the direction of the darkness a voice responds in a cracking, croaking tone heavy with scorn, "What is the meaning of this? You men will get your reward as promised if that is what you fear. Egil honours his promises. Your ship lies moored upon the river. Take it and go, this is no longer your concern, heroes of Raudurfoss." You recognize the voice as Egil's but it is much changed not only in tone but demeanour. It is the voice of mercilessness, bile and cruelty.
[ooc] I'm not sure I understand your question. If it was regarding the dead guard from the field his corpse still lies by the shed. Her house? You've lost me there. Currently you are in Earl Thorolf's hall.
Just to further describe the hall.
It is a long hall about one hundred feet in length with entrances at the north and south ends. The main entrance that Vladimir entered from is at the south. The walls are of sturdy ash timber caulked with moss and lichen. The sloped roof is of sod and heavy thatch. Two large alcoves jut out on either side of the hall each with a heavy door. The alcove on the west side is a large pantry while on the east it is a storage room and a bunk. Inside rows of beam pillars lie ten feet apart from each running the length of the hall. Ornate tapestries and bear hides hang from the sides. The floor is laid with wooden planks.
Vlad strides in, his sword sheathed. He bats away (or attempts to) the spears of the men ahead of him, and attempts to approach Unn, trying to reassure her. He gives her a smile, a touch on the arm if possible, then turns to the darkness where Egil seems to be.
"Hersil Egil," he begins, nodding his head but refusing to kneel, "You make a grave error here. I will not allow you to harm this woman, she cannot be guilty of witchcraft. She, after all, is the one who brought the cure to this town.
"I owe you bloodprice for one of your guards slain , and I will pay it, but I will not allow you to harm this woman, who so swiftly lost her sons in your father's service."
Kveldulf stands behind Vladimir with a grim expression on his face. Uruz accompanies him faithfully emanating a deep low growl as Kveldulf assesses the situation.
"Hersil Egil," he begins, nodding his head but refusing to kneel, "You make a grave error here. I will not allow you to harm this woman, she cannot be guilty of witchcraft. She, after all, is the one who brought the cure to this town.
"I owe you bloodprice for one of your guards slain , and I will pay it, but I will not allow you to harm this woman, who so swiftly lost her sons in your father's service."
The voice in the darkness coughs in a sickly fury his voice rising in anger, "The grave error is yours follower of Halfdeane. This woman is a witch, she and her kin conspire against my house. She has laid my father low, cast her evil eye upon myself. She used the disease and you to garner glory for her cause and turn the people against us! Do you and Halfdeane also conspire against us? I am the hersir, my father is Earl and we control these lands not Unn and certainly not Halfdeane!" Egil's voice wretches and one can discern the shadowy figure seated on the throne wracked by short spasms. After a brief moment he regains his compusure and continues, "I will forfeit the blood price for the man you killed if you take your rabble and go... You must leave."
Sense Motive (including earlier rolls)
DC 10
DC 15
Kveldulf
General to all:
Spot DC 21 (Ragnarr +2)
For those inspecting Earl Thorolf
Heal DC 15
Ragnarr eyes the hall warily, and involvuntarily takes a step back as his sharp eyes fall upon Egil. "The shadows in which the hersir sits are deeper than normal," mutters the man-beast to his companions in his gravelly voice. "They move as if they were alive... some dark spirit has him in its grasp... he fears it..."
Vlad, clearly distracted by the 'trial' being enacted, pays no heed to the whispers behind his brain, telling him that he should pay attention. He barely even notices the words of his friend Ragnarr in his focus.
"Your father swore loyalty to Halfdeane! You were felling lumber to build ships for my lord! That is why I am here!" Vlad is angered at Egil's traitorous words, and takes another step towards Egil before trying another tack. He spreads his arms open to the shadowy chair and speaks again.
"Hersil, you and I are friends! We have hunted, both animal and goblin, together. How could you think I would abandon someone like that, regardless of the cost! I will not allow this... not under Thorvann's laws, and he so recently taken to Valhalla!"
"Dorvarr, can you cast out the black spirits that have taken hold of the hersir?" asks Ragnarr, murmuring to the cleric over his shoulder.
The malodorous shepherd takes a few steps towards his knightly companion. "Vlad," he hisses as his eyes shift from Egil to the council and back again, "'ware, for the hersir is not himself... do you not see the living shadows about him? Look closer... but don't step too close..."
He nervously adjusts his grip on his axe.
Kveldulf's eye narrows and his brow furrows as he assess the events unfolding before him. Unexpectedly he bangs the butt of his flail against his spiked shield resulting in a loud thump! "I, Kveldulf the Two-Cuts of Northshore, see a man before me ground fine by a life too big for him, addled of mind, and unfit to rule his father's stead!," he shouts boldly, "By the ancestral rites of our people past down from the oldest of times, I challenge you, Hersil Egil, may you or your man face me single handedly till you shall yield. Now accept and arm yourself or show all of these whom follow after you what a coward you are!"
Vladimir's impassioned speech quiets the hersir as he sits wrapped in the shadows of the far end of the hall. It is as if he struggles within himself to form a reply. You notice the Guard Captain's eye regarding him closely with concern. The other warriors in the hall hold their weapons ready but they too sense something amiss in the room. A chill air seems to enter the room and you notice the small fire in the centre of the hall dwindle visibly. Egil's voice bursts out in a desperate plea, "You must leave! All of you!"
As Kveldulf shouts out his challenge the hersir staggers upright in a jerking motion wracked by spasms. As he stands the coldness grips the air with unearthly power. You feel the breath of frost upon your face and your blood run cold. Now, unmistakably the shadows in the room move with a malign life of their own radiating outward from the hall's end creeping amidst the rafters and descending in awful silence. A pitiful howl of pain and agony is unleashed from the hersir's lips. He stumbles forward his face visible in the dimness. The guards and clan elders hastily retreat to the hall's entrance away from this ghastly shambling figure.
It is an unholy sight. His wound crudely bandaged over his eye does little to conceal the grotesqueness. The skin around the wounded eye is marked with pale blisters and boils that weep a blackened and foul smelling oil. Elsewhere on his body you can see the visible signs of decay as his flesh is twisted and pale. Egil's face contorts with pain and for a brief moment he regards you with the look of his old self, "Kill me, you must!" but then his expression shifts to stone and his remaining eye, milky white, regards you coldly unblinking. An inhuman voice croaking with frost and the cold of the darkest winter night sounds, "The shades hunger." The fire flickers and sputters.
Initiative
Dorvarr 18
Kveldulf 17
Egil 15
Vladimir 15
Utgaror 12
Ottar 8
Ragnarr 5
Unn has nervously paced back behind your band feverishly making a sign across herself. Her mouth gapes open in fear and terror shouting, "Sceadugenga!"
Knowledge religion or arcana/bardic knowledge 8
12
20
22
Dorvarr edges his way towards the Earl's unconcious form, hoping to get a better look at his condition. Raising his hammer, he invokes the wrath of Thor.
"Foul spawn of dark magic, may the searing power of Thor's lightning banish you from this place!"
Unn has nervously paced back behind your band feverishly making a sign across herself. Her mouth gapes open in fear and terror shouting, "Sceadugenga!"
"No!" whispers Ragnarr in fear, now wielding his axe protectively. "Wise one, can they be slain?" he asks Unn?
Dorvarr exhorts the might of Thor to push back the gathering darkness but his prayers are only replied by a hollow chuckling from Egil's frost-bitten lips.
Unn watches Dorvarr's vain attempts and as the shambling figure and shadows approach she glances to Ragnarr, "I do not know, Frigga help us I do not know..."
Ottarr steps back in shock and draws his short sword. "The shadow-walkers Everyone, be strong! These have been slain before, they shall be slain again!", he shouts, an undercurrent of fear apparent in his voice.
Dorvarr exhorts the might of Thor to push back the gathering darkness but his prayers are only replied by a hollow chuckling from Egil's frost-bitten lips.
Unn watches Dorvarr's vain attempts and as the shambling figure and shadows approach she glances to Ragnarr, "I do not know, Frigga help us I do not know..."
Dorvarr curses Thor's indifference to undead...
Kveldulf tightens the grip on the leather wrapped handle of his flail in response to the unnatural chill in the hall, its wicked paw-shaped head dangling at his knee. "May the All Father hasten your journey to Nifelhel, Egil!, yells the warrior as he begins to charge forward whipping his flail in a large arc above his head preparing to bring the clawed head around to smash into Egil's rotting head. "Ooooodin!" he yells senses already flooded with rage.
Kveldulf tightens the grip on the leather wrapped handle of his flail in response to the unnatural chill in the hall, its wicked paw-shaped head dangling at his knee. "May the All Father hasten your journey to Nifelhel, Egil!, yells the warrior as he begins to charge forward whipping his flail in a large arc above his head preparing to bring the clawed head around to smash into Egil's rotting head. "Ooooodin!" he yells senses already flooded with rage.
Kvedululf's flail strikes a telling blow against Egil's blackened frame. His festering wounds seep more of the noxious black oil but the abomination still stands.
The creature reacts jerkily as Egil's arms lash out at Kvedulf with supernatural strength. As the cursed hersir's slam hits the one-eyed barbarian, Kvedulf feels a blast of cold whip across his face.The writhing shadows gathered around Kvedulf move across the room to attack. One form close to Egil, reaches to Kvedulf but he ducks just in time to avoid the shadow's frigid touch.
Sensing a follower of Thor a shade descends down upon Dorvarr while another tendril of winter's night assaults Vladimir.
As the living darkness enters their bodies both the cleric and the knight feel the cold of the frosty grave grip their hearts like a crushing vice.
Kveldulf feels the icy chill sink deep in to his shoulder as Egil slams down upon him. "Fangs of Fenris!" he exclaims. "A servent of of Hel? It is a good day to die, he thinks to himself, let the bones roll as they may.
With the unnatural shadow looming over him the young knight feels fear gripping his insides. How can one fight such creatures with mere metal? Vladimir sees no choice but to engage the cursed hersir but wary to avoid the shadow's embrace he cautiously retreats careful to deny the shade another opportunity.
Utgathor strides towards Dorvarr and with a roar stabs his spear into the living shadow that looms over the cleric. All in the hall see the strike is true but a curse rises from the druid's lips as he feels the spear only rip through air and darkness.
As the fire in the hall sputters the shades seem to gather strength looming larger...
The highly superstitious Ragnarr begins to tremble in fear as Unn declares that she knows not how these shades can be defeated. He turns from his companions, ready to flee the hall, but an instant later, charges back in to assist Vladimir. The man-beast's eyes roll back into his head, and he roars like an ogre, swinging his axe frantically at the enclosing horror. "Away, demon!!!"
Ottarr stops his inspiring chant and waves his hands over his sword while murmuring a phrase, and a soft glowing light starts coming from the sword.
Watching the spear of Utgaror soar through the shade, Dorvarr looks deep into his soul and seeks a way to deal with the accursed foes.
Stepping back, he invokes the wrath of Thor. "May Mjornir smite down these foul spawn!" A ghostly warhammer appears, lasking at the creatures.
Ottar's incantation illumines the hall with radiant light. An unearthly shriek sounds from the shades. They seem to weaken in the bright arcane light. Egil's shambling form also flinches from the brilliance.
Dorvarr's glowing hammer of force smashes down upon the nearby shade with tremendous force sending the living darkness reeling back. The shade seems to dissipate for a moment under the assault but still clings to its unholy existence, albeit greatly diminished.
The clan elders and guards shouting in fear flee out of the hall. The Captain pulls Unn towards him and desperately tries to light a torch.
Initiative
Dorvarr 18
Kveldulf 17
Egil 15
Vladimir 15
Utgaror 12
Ottar 8
Ragnarr 5
"Kill him Uruz!" shouts Kveldulf and with wordless grunt he whips his flail low, wrapping the chain behind Egil's legs. He then yanks back sharply attempting to take the fiend off his feat.
Ragnarr's wild axe swing cleaves into the mass of inky blackness looming near Vladimir. The man-beast lets out a roar of surprise as he feels the axe swing clear through the air. Foul sorcery is clearly at work...
Ragnarr's wild axe swing cleaves into the mass of inky blackness looming near Vladimir. The man-beast lets out a roar of surprise as he feels the axe swing clear through the air. Foul sorcery is clearly at work...
Meanwhile Kveldulf's flail successfully ensnares one of Egil's frost-covered legs. The hersir attempts to whip the chain back (Str 10=8+2) but a quick snap by Kveldulf sends the creature sprawling on the ground.
Uruz controlling his fear under the stern hand of his master leaps on the prone Egil biting a deep gash upon the hersir's decaying arm. The cursed warrior lets out a howl of pain and lashes wildly out at the dog bearing down upon him. atk 4
The shades move swiftly sending tendrils of frigid death upon their victims. As the shadow's grasp grips upon them, the three feel their joints numb and the breath of night in their lungs.
Vladimir up.
Vlad, fighting the drain inflicted upon him by the shadows, calls out to his companions.
"Take heart, friends! They flinch from the light!" He ducks under the outstretched arms of one and dives for the fire in the centre of the room, still sputtering. With this shield hand, he seizes one of the brands and swings it through the air, trying to keep it alight and use it as a weapon at once.
Vlad, fighting the drain inflicted upon him by the shadows, calls out to his companions.
"Take heart, friends! They flinch from the light!" He ducks under the outstretched arms of one and dives for the fire in the centre of the room, still sputtering. With this shield hand, he seizes one of the brands and swings it through the air, trying to keep it alight and use it as a weapon at once.
Sorry but the fire is out as posted earlier. Should've have reiterated that at the bottom of the round (easy to lose to track of details buried in earlier posts) The hall is only illumined by Ottar's light spell and the torch that the guard captain lit at the end of the 1st round.
Feel free to repost action. Others still go ahead and post.In 1st round the sputtering fire still provides shadowy illumination. By Round 2 it'll be out casting the hall into darkness
The enraged Ragnarr is surprised by the sudden loss of strength he feels, but does not relent. As his swing cleaves apparently without harm through the shade, he stumbles over to Egil's possessed body, trying to hack at it. "Kill the demon, and the shades will go with him," he growls, as if trying to convince himself. Yet in his weakened state, he is unable to strike his foe.
Having battled all manner of living beast the wild man is at a loss when it comes to creatures that should have already left this life. Taking a cue from his fellow warrior, He mutters an incantation to illuminate the tip of his spear.
Vlad, fighting the drain inflicted upon him by the shadows, calls out to his companions.
"Take heart, friends! They flinch from the light!" He ducks under the outstretched arms of one and puts himself in the way of the creature's swing, trying to keep his friend Ragnarr from being struck again.
The stout man, his strength dwindling, reaches into his inner reserves and once again attempts to drive the things away.
"By Thor's will and valor, back to the realm of Hel with ye!"
Kveldulf cries in anguish as the shade's touch sends an icy sensation blasting into his shoulder, which stiffens with the icy chill as the muscles knot into painful spasms. He reacts by swatting harmlessly at the fell shade with his spiked shield.
This is followed by a roar as the raging warrior whips his arm in a wide arc bringing the deadly flail tip from the ground up high above Kveldulf's head and then back down savagely upon the prone Hersir.
All the while Uruz, in the midst of a snarling ruckus, instinctively lunges for his target's throat resulting in an oozing mess issuing forth about the beast's maw.
"And as Thor ventured into the forest..."
As he continues his speech, Ottarr draws a thin silver dagger and throws it at the shade.
Vladimir deftly maneuvers through the wild melee his back against his raging comrade providing defense as Ragnarr struggles valiantly.
By the extinguished hearth fire, Utgaror incants in a harsh, cadent tongue loosing a radiant orb of light in the midst of the hall. As before the unholy shades give a keening shriek and their form shifts losing opacity as if the very light harms them.
Seeing this Ottar takes heart, his voice lifting with stirring resonance. The skald with a dagger rips at the shade by Dorvarr but finds only empty air and shadow.
Standing over the prone Egil, the weakened Ragnarr swings a cutting blow downwards just striking the rolling blackened figure.* dam 5
Without missing a beat, Kveldulf and Uruz follow up Ragnarr's attack with a one-two vicious assault mercilessly raining down upon the cursed hersir. Kvedulf's flail comes down upon Egil's blackened face caving it in. The hersir emits a ghastly wheezing breath as a sludging black oil weeps from his wounds and festering injuries making the twitching mass barely recognizable as human and unclear whether it still lives...
Ragnarr *
I believe your atk roll was incorrect. Your Str while raging is 21 w 5 Str drain making it still 16. BAB+Str+Inspire Courage (+1) and Egil's -4 AC should make your roll 14 vs. AC 11.