"Wait, Gärwin. Let me peer into the lay-lines and ensure there is no potentially harmful magics attuned to anything in this wretched place."
Listening to the woman, Drot's eyebrows shoot up at the mention of the Tower Arcane. He speaks loud enough so only his companions can hear him.
"She... She is either a liar or a powerful caster, we should be cautious."
Even in the heat of the desert Drot turns cold when Sir Gärwin casually address the woman, whether it's fear or embarrassment is hard to tell.
Kahtia watches Gärwin move towards the crystalline lizard, a wind swirling her hair and beautiful skirts as she cocks her head. "I don't know anyone by that name," she says, her common accented, lilting. "I am looking for someone myself. Another wizard from the Tower. Have you seen one in your travels?" She reaches a slender hand above her head and adds, "About so tall. Ruddy skin. Reddish hair and a beard. Robes of midnight blue. His name is Withir Buckling, and I must find him."
Seeing the dwarf eyeing the partially uncovered statue, and knowing the tendencies of such creatures, she smiles slightly, calmly. "It's cursed," she says easily, that accent rising again. "Like everything, here in the Desolation."
After they leave the strange watering hole behind, Charles seemed to be weathering the heat better throughout the day, though some level of fatigue from a restless night.
Upon arriving at the ruined garden he takes in the surroundings of the area. Noticing the only moving thing to be a woman and her horse he stands tall. At Drot'ooks read of the woman he nodded to the Orc.
"Right, keep an eye out for things I might miss."
He is taller than your average young man, now with an outwardly solid build to him. He has fair skin which shows his southern heritage, reddened somewhat from his time in the Desolation. Lustrous light hair which is starting to run down towards his shoulders and bright blue eyes that could be said to be striking. The desert outfit is common enough, loose fitting cotton pants, light sleeveless tunic, a loose long sleeved shirt, good solid boots, desert hood to protect his head, with a canteen worn around his shoulders, and a worn, notched glaive rests on his back.
Charles steps forward, moving to stop about five paces away from her.
Up close it becomes apparent that a circlet of silver rests on his brow. A holy symbol of the New God can be seen, the symbol is that of a dragon circling around and eating it's own tail. A finely crafted blade of dwarven design rests within easy reach, the faintest hint of frost seems to impossibly line the hilt of the blade. He wears two rings, one gold with a purple kunzite gemstone embedded on it, the other a strange metal ring made of intertwining black and white metal.
He shakes his head slowly, seemingly very tired now, in response to Khatia's question.
"I can't say we've seen anyone matching that name or description you've given. My name is Charles. That fact that you would brave traveling the Desolation alone is almost unbelievable, given the dangers we've faced already. You must be very skilled." Charles says with admiration in his voice. "This man must be very important to you."
He eyes Khatia's flowing hair. Odd, there's no wind right now. What Drot said must be true then.
"We are traveling out of a settlement called Oasis. The Shiekh who is the leader there has asked us to find the man, Lemuel, a friend of his. He was said to be on an expedition to the Tomb of... the Tomb of Anak'Hainumen." he finished slowly, trying to say the name correctly.
Charles paused, looking at Kahtia. "We can certainly give you directions back towards Oasis, if that's where your destination lies. It's possible that the man, this wizard Withir, you're looking for could be there."
Tesswyn is a plain-looking girl with fair skin and dark hair, currently swathed in a black desert outfit. A longbow and an ornate staff are slung over her back, and a few pieces of jewelry glitter in the sunlight.
"That's assuming you are who you claim to be," Tesswyn adds with an edge in her voice. "If you're actually a monster in disguise, just tell us now so we can kill you and get on with our business."
Yarza calmly watches Charlemange approach, then shrugs her slim shoulders very slightly when he introduces himself and mentions her skills, and her quest. Her response is measured. "I know this land well, though I wish I didn't. As a child I lived on the fringes of this blasted desert and know all too well how dangerous it can be. As for Withir Buckling, finding him is very important to everyone. "
When the religious man continued, speaking of Oasis, and the tomb, Kahtia's green eyes lit with interest. "I have tracked him to Sixton, through the Crusader States, and even to Oasis. He is on the final leg of his journey -- he too searches for one of Gog's black tombs, and I need to find him before he reaches it. In Oasis, I was told he was not traveling alone. Is it possible our two quarry traverse the wastes together? Can your New God tell you this?"
When Tesswyn adds to the conversation caustically, Tahlia turns towards her, makes eye contact, and begins to walk, closing the distance between them. "I am who I claim to be," she says intensely, stopping just a few paces form the other woman. "But you are right to be wary, to fear this place and the things that live -- and die -- in it. I travel here only because I must. In truth, I'd hoped to never lay eyes on these death lands again. But here I am. And here you are."
Turning to look at Charles, then Gar, then the Orc, who'd kept quiet to this point, the raven-haired sorceress turned and began walking back towards her horse, a wind pulling again at her robes and skirts.
"I will travel with you," she said over her shoulder, making her way through the sand. "If you will have me."
The dwarf rolls his eyes, "Pah! What isn't cursed these days? If we can find some way t' cleanse the black magick, I'm sure there's a pretty penny to be made."
Gärwin is even shorter than one might expect for a dwarf, but even more broadly built. He wears chainmail of a superior quality paired with a simple iron helmet. The summer heat prompted the knight to add a simple shawl to his headgear in an attempt to keep cool. Gildenbeard isn't just in name, the dwarf has literally infused his beard with gold dust, giving a luster and shine beyond the norm. Ones with knowledge of dwarves traditions would recognize this as a mark of station, though rarely practiced in these current times. A dented shield rests upon Gärwin's opposite arm, obviously having seen plenty of abuse.
"Oi, ladies please, we don't need to be startin' fights out in the damned desert. Let's keep it civil, right?" Despite his words, Gärwin draws his sword, revealing a plain weapon without adornments. Looking closely at his sword arm, his index finger is missing.
"I vote we travel together, so long as we keep the fightin' to the monsters. Nobody wants t' be buried in the Desolation."
Tesswyn grunts. "Fine. As long as she doesn't slow us down."
"Ah you came from Oasis. That seems far more likely.
I suppose it makes sense. An expedition alone into the wastes would normally be very dangerous, going to a tomb full of traps and other dangers seems like it would be suicidal without more people. An experienced wizard would be a great addition any group. To our expedition as well." he said, nodding at her as she turned back to her horse.
After thinking about her question for a long while, Charles eventually raised his hands as if helpless. "As for the New God and her Avatar Astrid, they can be quite talkative when they want to be. But they talk to me, I can't talk to them... normally. Though I spoke with Astrid once, well yelled at her more like."
Charles was pleased as Garwin spoke to maintain a peaceful resolution to the group, but when the Dwarf rebuked the warning about the lizard, Charles held out a hand. "Garwin, wait! I'm really not sure you should touch that lizard. I don't think I can remove the curse from you if something happens."
The orc follows behind his companions about a yard. He towers over the humans at least a foot, standing quietly with his hands clasped behind his back. Although still quite muscular, he lacks the burly appearance of a typical orcish fighter and his wary gaze has a thoughtful quality to it. Similarly dressed to combat the desert heat, he is nearly completely covered and any what little exposed skin there is, is a burnt dark green color; dry and flaky. His face is covered in red scars and his tusk are small and unobtrusive, allowing his mouth to completely close. The large hammer tucked into his belt is almost clique compared to the leather bound book that hangs next to it. The base symbol for the Arcana traditions along side two others is easily recognizable and meticulously precious.
As the stranger begins to walk away, he finally speaks, the graveled voice of an orc with the articulation of a scholar.
"Air magic... do you specialize or diversify? And your friend, what's his color?"
Turned away from the quartet of travelers she's now joining, Kahtia smiles slightly to herself when the priest talks about conversing with his gods. Yarza isn't exactly a woman of strong faith, and she is amused by people who don't realize that the gods offer no help or true solace to the peoples and races of Urth. They were fending for themselves -- and had been for many years.
When she hears the dwarf's steel ring free, though, Kahtia turns with the reigns of her horse in her hand. "Do you often beg peace with bared steel in your grasp, dwarf? Just a query. I take no offense. One must be on one's guard here, after all." The darkly beautiful woman's fingertips tingle, the beginnings of a spell awakening in them.
When the orc speaks up, asking the woman his own questions, Kahtia opens her hand and sets invisible motes free, not reacting as the ends of her fingers bruise slightly. The mage then meets and holds the green-skin's beady-eyed gaze as she leads her horse towards him. "Midnight blue. And the Tower teaches many arts, my unusual friend. I have learned a few of them." Her eyes go to Drot'ook's book, and she adds, "Where did you study? Are you self-taught?"
With a warning glare to Gärwin about not touching the statue, you head off towards the tomb. The sun starts to wane by the time you get your first visual of the tomb, a half buried building sticking up from a partial dune. Nothing else here remains but a toppled statue with its head buried in the arid and solitary sands.
When you are about an hour's ride out, the rains start. The first droplet to touch your skin burns. The water is boiling hot!
You push hard to get to the Tomb itself. A quick scan of the building as you approach shows that there is some gear set out front. Two tents, two horses, some scattered gear.
Both horses look to be in very poor health.
There is a single door with a scarab shaped indent in the middle of the door.
Gärwin sheathes his sword with practiced ease. "Hah! Most th' times we skip straight to the fightin'! Been a while since we could talk to anyone outside of town."
The dwarf's armor quickly heats up in the scalding rain, forming nasty blisters all over the poor knight's body. Soaked and in pain, Gärwin pushes his horse to speed past the downpour. "Bloody desert gets worse every day! Agh, It hurts to move!"
Once they finally arrive at the tomb, Gärwin rushes for the cover of the tents, unclasping his chainmail and helmet. Once free of the burning metal, he quaffs his waterskin looking modestly recovered.
Tess curses as the burning rain singes her skin, but she weathers the storm without much harm. Once at the camp, she searches the area warily, paying special attention to the door.
Charles was finally getting used to the crown's eccentricities. Able to close his eyes and spread his gear around to shield both him and his mount from the boiling rain.
May the new god shelter us from danger.
"We'll need to find shelter for the horses from the rain!" he calls out. "We'll bring them inside if we can."
Dismounting near the other horses, Charles attempts to start building them a shelter.
"Someone check the tents, there may be clues inside."
It'll take 90 minutes to set up the tent how you want to set it up. This will provide protection to you and the horses from the boiling rain, but you'll still need to make strength challenge rolls each day due to the maddening heat. This roll will be made with one boon due to the shelter.
The 90 minutes is for Charles by himself, possibly with one person helping. Charles (plus one more?) will need to make one more strength challenge roll due to the boiling rains. Failure means you take 3d6 damage, success means you take half. This assumes everyone else hides in the tents while the shelter is built. Anyone out searching equipment will need to roll as well.
If everyone pitches in, then the time is reduced to one hour; a strength challenge roll is still required, but the damage is reduced to 2d6 on a failure.
It was miserable for Charles, as he worked out in the boiling rain to set up shelter. But he had done so before while working the fields, the only difference now was that it was hot rather than cold.
As the steaming rain pelts the five riders, Kahtia winces and stands in her saddle, urging her roan faster and faster, towards whatever cover they might find at the tomb. Her robes and hair flying, she curses beneath her breath that she did not bring incantations what would allow her to control the weather.
Desperate to get out of the rain once they reach the front of the tomb, Yarza wheels around on her horse when the priest begins trying to set up a shelter. "What about just using the tents that are already standing for cover?!" she calls over to him, through the hissing downpour.
Unwilling to let her boyfriend suffer alone, Tesswyn helps Charles pitch the tents, cursing the whole time but weathering the boiling rain relatively well.
At Kahtia's words Charles shook his head. "They might be big enough for a single horse set up the way they are, if it laid down, but not for all of them. We'll need to create a wider area to keep them all dry."
He gave a half grin to Tesswyn as she braved the storm to come out and help him.
By the time they were finally done, he looked over at her with a sigh of relief.
"You know you didn't have to help. Now we're both soaked, miserable, and I still can't believe I'm saying it, but burned.
I'll have to show my appreciation later."
"You'd better," Tess says. She dances around under the tent, shaking off the worst of her burns. "Now let's finish looking around."
"Self taught... I've fought hard for every line in this book. Sacrificed, stolen, and invented what little knowledge is in it."
He nods to himself, feeling proud of what he's accomplished. It's not a lot but it's all his.
Later on in their travels Drot leans to his sister and brother.
"I've been together so long, I've forgotten that I'm unusual. I do have a suspicion that it is she who is the unusual one though, heh."
He smiles to himself, and then the rain started.
The water is hotter on his skin then the sun but still pales to some of the things he's gone through in his life. He sees the door and tries to get inside the solid building as the other get to work. He searches the area and after see all there is to see, settles on helping in the search of the tent.
The tomb: It's a partial buildig sticking out of the side of a dune. What's visible is a double door, each of the two slightly larger than a normal door. The doors seem to be made of smooth tan colored stone while the rest of the building looks to be made from rough Sandy colored bricks, the face of which are about a square yard. The total size of the building that's visible is the size of a small shed, or maybe 2-3 times the size of a one person outhouse.
An hour and a half passes while Charles and Tesswyn build a shelter large enough to protect the horses and everyone in the camp. Drot spends the time searching (will use Tesswyn's success here). Meanwhile, Gärwin and Kahtia hide in the tents.
Inside the Tents: the tents each have a sleeping pad and some blankets and food stuffs. One of the tents had a bottle of wine and a book with hand written notes.
The book covers stories, clues, and other information about the Tomb of Anak'Hainumen, as well as tells a story of a man's exposition to finding this place.
Anak’hainunem was once a mighty ruler over all that can be seen here and beyond these physical boundaries. Vile and wicked, he fought against the many denizens of the desert and was able to reign over a very successful kingdom for centuries. In the end, he was utterly defeated and then entombed beneath the sands here. His might and greatness have faded into the mists of time and legend.
The author of this book is searching for Anak'Hainumen's scepter and death mask, both for their historical and monetary value. He seems to be torn on which is more important.
The author's journey out of Oasis was not done alone. He met a wizard from the Tower Arcanum who was also searching for this tomb. The man seemed to be mysterious about his reasons, but promised shelter from the environs as they traveled, which he accomplished in a very peculiar manner. He had a sort of protective spell which could be shared by using a sex ritual. The author was not comfortable with the ritual itself, but went along with it for the protection against the dessolation. And it certainly seemed to work, so who was he to complain?
As they set up camp, the wizard started acting oddly, getting more and more impatient to enter the Tomb itself. The author expressed patience - his research led him to believe this place would be full of traps and guardians. The author wanted to properly set up and prepare for the Long haul of slowly clearing the tomb out. The wizard wanted in.
The author expressed concern over mentioning that he had the scarab key to enter.
There are no more entries after that.
Searching outside. From the looks of it, it looks like someone was setting up all the equipment needed to excavate and explore the tomb, when a fight broke out. There are signs of magical charring and blood on some tomb bricks. Much of the equipment is covered in sand and hot to the touch thanks to the boiling rains. Ropes, grappling hooks, shovels, a pick, hammers of various sizes, nets, canvas bags, a crossbow, etc.
You also find the scarab key - but it was no easy task. It looks like someone threw the key out away from the tomb after using it. You found it almost completely buried in the wet sands a dozen or so yards away from the tomb entrance.
State of the horses: by the time the shelter is ready, 5 of the 7 horses look like a stiff wind will kill them. If they don't receive immediate treatment, they will die. Only Gärwin's and Kahtia's horses seem to be ok.
Tesswyn is at once disgusted and intrigued by the ritual involved with the protection spell. She decides to leave it alone for now, though she makes a note to examine it further later. For reasons...
"We found the key," she says, holding up the scarab. "Are we ready to use it and go in now?"
"Well I'm no expert in th' magicks, but I think it's obvious to say neither of our quarries are out here. If they really got inna fight, then Mr.Lemon might be in serious trouble. The mad wizard musta brought the other man with 'im, black magick might be afoot." Gärwin falls quiet for a time, seemingly lost in thought.
Shaking his head, he replies, "I say we go in, might be able to catch 'em before anything too bad happens. Can't shake this bad feeling about the whole thing tho."
Before going in, Charles has everyone gather around the horses.
"If that's the case then we'll need to be extra careful. Kahtia, I didn't think to ask about the specifics before but exactly what sort of relationship do you have with Withir. Were you following after him or were you hunting him?"
Once inside and out of the rain, Kahtia peels off her wet robes and leaves the jade-colored garb in a pile as she sits and meditates, closing her eyes to center herself after the experience of the scalding rain. The curvaceous woman is clad only in the barest of silken underthings, and anyone present finds it difficult to not stare. Not only is the woman's firm and moist flesh on display, but so too are the intricate and beautiful tattoos covering her body, and the bruises, marks, and scars of a life hard lived. The wizardess' body is like a gorgeous map, one that begs to be explored.
When the book is found, Kahtia pours through it voraciously, closely examining every page, every word. The two men were together, and from the sounds of things, Buckling has delved deep into the forbidden book he's stolen from the sorceress. It is likely too late for the man himself -- he's seen and read too much. But there might still be a chance of preventing him from loosing unknown horrors into the world. They will have to go after him immediately.
Dressing quickly once her skin is dry and her robes have cooled, Kahtia joins the others near the horses and answers Charles in her accented common.
"Withir Buckling is a colleague of mine from the Tower. A good man who treaded the edge of a dangerous chasm for years. He thirsted for the magics of old, forbidden sorceries from the time before the Empire. I fear he's now fallen in. I was wrong about him searching for one of Gog's Black Pyramids... it seems all along he was looking for this place, the Tomb of Anak'Hainumen. He is not searching for treasure, but rather power. Artifacts, dark, ancient spells -- things best left entombed here."
While walking over to the group, Kahtia had observed Tesswyn summoning strength from her holy symbol. Another spellcaster? The black-haired mage knew then that there was indeed more to this group than met the eye.
"I am fortunate our paths have crossed," Kahtia continues, starting to cast her own magic, tracing a faintly glowing rune in the air. "The two we seek were indeed together, though your man may have met an evil end already. Withir Buckling will not be easy to dissuade from his dangerous course, but that is what we must do. I will need your help. Which of you will take the lead in exploring this place?"
Tesswyn does indeed stare at the half-naked Kahtia, jealous of the dusky-skinned wizard's natural beauty. And just when her self-esteem was starting to recover, too! She elbows Charles to draw his attention away from Kathia; whether or not he was actually staring is irrelevant.
The rogue is relieved when the wizard finally gets dressed again. She raises her hand after casting her preparatory spells. "I'll go first, to make sure we don't stumble into any traps."
You place the scarab in the indentation on the door. The scarab key glows and the seams in the door light up, starting at the key and spreading outwards until the double doors are outlined in a glowing light. The doors swing outwards.
As it opens, the mournful howl of a jackal erupts from the inside. The sound doesn't come from the door opening, but rather it was already there and the open door simply let it out.
Walking to Tesswyn with her palm open and a fist-sized mystical rune suddenly blazing in the air above her hand, Kahtia looks into the former thief's eyes. "A Rune of Finding. It will allow us to know your location should you fall, or something steal you away into the gloom. This will be a place of nightmares. Know this, Tesswyn."
The mage's eyes dart to her hand as she closes her fist, trapping the golden sigil that had been handing in the air -- then she rapidly presses her hand, palm-first against the other woman's chest. There's a searing, sizzling sound, and when the Tower mage draws her hand back a smaller version of the rune has been emblazoned into Tess' armor. It glows softly for a moment, then goes dark.
---------
When the tomb is opened, and the horrifying scream sounds, Kahtia holds fast. She was expecting as much.
Tesswyn meets Kahtia's stare, refusing to flinch. "Oh, I know a thing or two about nightmares," she says drily. She does involuntarily wince at the searing sound of the rune's inscription, but is pleasantly surprised when no pain follows.
***
Tesswyn grits her teeth and resists caving in to the maddening shriek. Once illumination has been provided, she grips her staff and starts forward, sweeping the area for danger.
After donning the now cooled armor, Gärwin lights himself a cigar and breathes a sigh of relief. "Well, let's get goin', I can take point if yeh need me to. The dark of this tomb won't hide nothin' from me!" He takes a long drag from the cigar before stowing it again.
"Feh, more jackalmen? The Desolation is jes' infested with 'em." The dwarf readies his weapons and follows Tesswyn in (or leads himself).
As he others finish their business, Drot takes his turn at reading the journal. When he was done the looked up to the the wizard nearly nude and fumbles the book and nearly drops it, he closes it instead and stows it away. Drot is intrigued by the mention of dark magic but is wary of the hostility it was been shown by his peers.
Noticing their new companion's actions he is momentarily frozen, unsure of what to do. He notes the similarities between their markings, and the pattern across her person. Though he is not familiar with any magical application he sketches what he can as a net in his notebook, doing his best not to intrude.
The Jackal's howl rings in Drot's ears followed by a wild cackling within his mind and he's reminded of the vengeance that was had in his late companion's name.
"Certainly not Gar, I'll keep an eye on our flank."
Tesswyn's instincts proved correct as Charles was practically unable to fail at noticing Kahtia's form even while working. Though he didn't make direct eye contact, the crowns magics enhanced his vision, as well as let him see all around himself and even through the shadows to show everything.
"Ow! Thanks Tess. Really needed that."
Charles nodded solemnly at the news the one they were looking for might have fallen to the madness of the Wizard.
"By the Grace of the New God, lend us the strength to overcome this trial." he gave a small prayer and infusing everyone around them with a surge of vitality.
The jackal's howl nearly caught him off guard but his will allowed him to shake off the effects of it.
Kahtia pulls out an old piece of parchment and reads the word, creating a light source that extends five yards out. The whole camp is lit up in the diminishing light of the day.
The light also extends beyond the door and into the tomb. Beyond the door is what looks like it was once a hallway, but instead of extending forward it slopes downwards. The hallway extends beyond your light's reach, but from what you can tell the hall is about 1-2 yards wide and about three yards tall. It has a strong slope, perhaps 20-25% grade. The floor is covered in sand and rubble, which may make movement difficult.
Tesswyn takes a careful step into the hallway. Her foot slips slightly as the loose sands and gravel adjust under her weight, but she holds steady.
As she descends about 15 yards in, close to the edge of the light, a sword comes stabbing out of a wall, piercing Tesswyn's skin.
A creature long dead steps out of the wall, malevolent intellect behind its dead eyes.
Three more step out.
The order of creatures down the hall: Tesswyn, 15 yards from the entrance. Undead: 16, 20, 25 and 30 yards.
Gärwin leaps into action, sliding down the sandy cliff into the darkness below. He falters at first, but the knowledge that his allies are right behind him galvanizes his courage. As Gärwin crashes downward, he swipes at the undead creature, hoping to land a solid hit. Shield raised, the dwarf stands ready to meet the oncoming creatures.
Tess yelps in pain as the sword pierces her side. Her eyes widen in terror as she glimpses the undead shapes shuffling in the shadows. "Gods, no!" she wails, scrambling back up the slope and away from the horrors.
"Damn, I'm on my way!" Charles said as he started moving his way down the slope after Garwin.
Unfortunately he slipped and began sliding down instead.
He pulled himself up after he slipped. Keeping his footing but not being close enough to help.
As the undead awaken and strike at the group's scout, and as Gär and Charles rush to help, Kahtia stands tall in the entrance and raises her hand, words of power forming in her throat, her mind. But when she sees their horrifying, necrotic foes, the woman's throat tightens, and she falters. Suddenly she is at Tidwell again, no more than a child perched on a rooftop, terrified, watching the slaughter.
"Fall back!" she finally shouts before she casts her spell, "draw them out!"
Trying to steady her nerves, she gestures and utters ancient words, casting a fearsome spell she knows well. Blood runs down one of her legs even as destructive, swirling energies strike towards the creature closest to Tesswyn...
Seeing the tunnel's condition caused Drot to hesitate for a moment. He held to his word and followed behind, watching as Tesswyn ventured into the darkness only to ambushed by the dead!
Too many people and too little space, Drot quickly decides to help as best he can.
"Septem; Iaculum!"
Tesswyn backs out of the tunnel while Gärwin charges in. Drot and Kahtia send in magical darts which strike with perfect accuracy.
Between Gärwin's assault and the magical artillery, one of the undead creatures is obliterated. Long dessicated organs and skin explode outwards, coating Gärwin. Leathery skin and powdered liver cling to the dwarfs armor.
None.
Charles slides in, as if he meant it.
The three other undead move up to claim the dwarf's soul. As the do so, the first one slips and falls down the slope several yards. The second actually reaches Gärwin and swings its sword, but the dwarf easily deflects the sword with his shield.
Distance
U1: Destroyed
U2: 26
U3: 15
U4: 20
Charles: 6
Drot: 0
Gärwin: 15
Kahtia: 0
Tesswyn: 9
Tesswyn swaps weapons, but her trembling hands cause the arrow to go wide.
Gärwin stands his ground, stemming the undead tide with well placed blows! "Pwah! These bastards musta been drinkin' sand for the past hundred years!" The dwarf spits, as dust covers his body and flies into his mouth.
The fear in her chest subsiding as it becomes clear that the foursome she now travels with are no strangers to deadly combat, Kahtia smiles at Drot'ook. "No room for you in there, your dwarven friend is greedy and wants them all for himself! Stand back here and cast with me, Drot." Beginning another chant, this one from the Air tradition, the mage quickly adds, "Your spells are strong, show me what else you can do!" before she speaks a gusting phrase that shakes the very stones of the tomb.
Far down the tunnel, between the two fearsome soldiers in the year, a powerful blast of wind explodes and swirls. With luck, the woman will knock them down, or even into the walls...
Even as Charles stood to his feet and got a good look at the horrific undead, his will was put to the test. Surprisingly, a surge of extra fortification came from the strange black and white metal ring he wore. He held, barely.
Once more he attempted to move forward.
But Charles was startled at the sudden explosion of wind within the tunnel. Some dust or other ancient debris landed in his eye, causing him to lose his footing.
He slid further down the tunnel ... right into Tesswyn.
"Hey." he said pulling himself up. "It's a bit more slippery than I thought."
Tesswyn yelps and flinches as Charles bumps into her. Normally, his line would have elicited a suggestive comeback from the rogue, but her brain is too busy screaming at her to allow her to exploit the opportunity of the priest's unwittingly dirty turn of phrase.
Kahtia conjures game force winds to push two of them back. The undead warrior closest to you stands strong in the face of the whirlwinds, but the one in back gets pushed back out of the light.
Tesswyn's arrow gets caught in the tornado and pulled into oblivion.
Drot plinks a dart and Gärwin slams his sword into the creature.
The undead strikes back! The sword swings past the dwarfs shield and pangs against his helmet.
Charles slides further down the tunnel.
The undead tries to move closer, but it slips and falls on the rubble.
Distance
U1: Destroyed
U2: ??, -14
U3: 15, -20
U4: 21
Charles: 11
Drot: 0
Gärwin: 15
Kahtia: 0
Tesswyn: 9
Tesswyn tries again, but this time her aim is even worse! She sobs and shakes, imagining the undead creatures chasing her through the tomb... Their icy fingers reaching for her exposed neck... Just like in her old nightmares...