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Well musta beena hard day for that moth, hell lets call him Tortega the Juniper Moth. As a nocturnal insect, it was way past his bedtime for sure...likely pushing 48 hours of solid flitting and...whatever else moths do. Heh, stirring up hell by dancing too close to the candlelight in the little ghouls room nearby, no doubt endlessly pounding his thorax and abdomen against the wall over and over, as is the moth custom. So you sees I cants blame the feller for seeking out the smell of the last dredges of that cask of Stout Commemorator I lifted from Ligenau. Drawing up to a little taste of the honey hops at the end of the day is a universal truth regardless of species.
Snoring is a skill. You can train yourself to do it for a useful gambit. Once the party thinks its your modus operandi you can easily fake em out bein' asleep and get all sorts of hot dish. But heh, I think this time I was genuinely purrin'...havin' the top 3 inches of my skull hacked clean did a lot to free up some anxiety. First dreamless sleep in a long time. He didn't know any better. Poor Tortega, fresh off the lip of me cup found a turbulent vortex and got snatched up quick! His dusty, fragile moth wings shellacking the back of my throat horrifically. Yeah, that's how it goes...from bad to worse.
*hagha-GGAHGH* *hock* *hoCKKKKK* The proud return of the thief, each cough ejecting one-of-six insect legs, torn off at the trochanter by pure wind speed. Strange thing was I didn't sound anything like myself, but figured the creature scrambling to hold on to life inside my larynx was the culprit. Got a double surprise grippin' me chest for breath. "What in the name of hell?" I usually said in such situations, but again the voice wasn't mine. Yeah, that last trick of the Sapphire Orb was a doosey.
Figured I'd speak some more, if I was on drugs I was sure I could detect it. "Griz? Gunns? Where's Crackles? ...ah, the Invictusol." My eyes coming back into focus under the pine and juniper, and no slurring at all. Always put me at ease, the prophet, heh. I figures the guy wouldn't willingly walk in to his death, so if he's seein' the future must be tilted towards the 'pretty alright' side of the scales. No doubt they had come here preordained by the Prophet's vision to save me...you know, from wild animals. "...damn, how long was I out? What's the score here?"
We'd laugh about it later, but in the moment it was a lot of blank stares and awkward silences. I musta looked like my own twin sister then just straight after the Gender Bendin'.
"Scramsax? While I'm happy to see you, your arrival is unexpected." Luthael replies to the thief looking at his wound.
"Is that your blood? Do you need magical healing, or just a little bath?"
Ingryd smiles and then gives the halfling a hug. A big hard hug." I have missed my little buddy! You missed the Treant and saving the children." she sniffles.
Ingrydthen lets the Halfling down and goggles." When we liberate this town lets get a drink, and catch up but first. Arianna is out there alone scouting. The land is full of Ghouls and worse."
It all started with a simple idea. Get two of the factions to blame the gnomes for something. Split them apart, and, if possible, reduce their numbers. The barrels of something dangerous, she didn't know what, but some fey instinct twiggled when she saw the barrels that told her there is danger and mischief to be had in plenty. Hearing a ghoul shout at one poor soul to watch the torch near the casks was enough to let her know that something about flames made them even more dangerous.
The beginnings of a plan forming, she went off to find the gnomes. While trying to see if there was something they had that would identify them, she kept coming the red caps they wore. After thinking for a moment, she went to a tent full of the snoring little fiends and slipped a few of their caps from their heads. Her touch could have used some work as they woke as she was slipping out of their tent. She didn't understand the panic in their voices as she slipped away back to the pile of dangerous casks.
Here the plan got a little trickier. True the casks were not large, but she wanted two of them if she could manage it, and they were bulky to be sneaking around with. Still, she is an elf, if a most unusual one for Midgard with a kinder heart than one would expect. Being light-footed came as naturally to her as listening to the tales of the stone came to a dwarf. She really should ask Gunnar about them some time.
She shook the intrusive thought away. Time was growing short and she still only had one part of her plan done. She grabbed two of the casks and a length of rope that had some thick oil and powder soaked into it. Her magic cloaked them as they did her and the caps she carried. She found a secluded spot around the back of the tent with some dark god's symbol on it. She didn't know who's symbol it was, but if their clergy were working with ghouls then they had to be dark. After placing the casks and setting the fuse as best as she was able, she snuck a cap into the tent near where the casks were set up. A wicked grin spread across her face as she makes her way back to the main pile of casks.
She worked quickly once she was back under the tarp. She left one cap on the ground as she set the fuse. She pulled the free end out after her, leaving just enough exposed for her to strike a light to. With everything set, it was time to gather everyone for the surprise party.
A few hushed notes of arcane power and every quip she'd thought of since she started scouting bring to life a gruff version of her own voice twenty feet up and five feet in front of the stockpile of casks.
"Hey! Hey Rumbleguts! Yeah, you fat-ass, How do you even gain weight? You're undead, ain't ya! Eating too many of them spiced crickets."
"Oh, and I heard that Sister Bev stuffs her cassock, if you catch my meaning. Poor girl's as flat as a washboard."
"Wallflower, man, as good as she used to look, she's even better in a sack."
As the stream of quips continued, Arianna watched as more and more gathered around. She hoped that the innocents would be told to tend to their chores while the ghouls, the priests, and the gnomes gathered round. When she guessed her spell was halfway through, she struck some sparks just over the fuse and slinked away as quickly as she dared, dropping the last cap near some crates as she made her way for her second surprise.
Unfortunately for Arianna, she hadn't guessed right on the timing of the fuse...
”Welcome back, Scramsax,” says Gunnar, adding ”You look different,” as he looks at the halfling crossways, not quite sure what is going on…
Ingryd, Gunnar and Luthael all welcome the somewhat odd return of their somewhat odd companion whose extra padding in certain areas has many questions being raised, but few openly asked. Such questions will likely need to wait as not a few moments later a large explosion rumbles across the scraggly landscape from the small village of Blandezig.
Scrambling up the rocks for a better view, all can see the black cloud of smoke and grit hanging over the southern end of the village and what remains of the ghoul's camp. A large central wood and canvas building burns scattering embers to several of the other nearby tents as shocked ghouls stand about in a daze before a few start shouting orders for buckets.
Gazing at the destruction, it is Luthael's keen eyes that catch a glimpse of something within the actual cloud. An angelic beauty with blood dark skin and raven black wings currently engulfed in flame. Her once golden tresses are little more than burnt and smoke ravaged stumble surrounding a bleeding torn face. Only one amethyst eye remains of a pair that had seduced king, queens, holy knights, and lowly peasants into her lustful embrace. Now one eye is stabbed through by the silver remnant of a candle holder, the other gleams of hate and agony. It is those two emotions that fill the piercing, pain filled scream of Marena's emissary. The creature's terrible blast creates further havoc and destruction across the encampment before sending the scrub and trees to trembling as it rolls across the land.
Tearing his gaze from the fallen angel, Khor's prophet spots several of the slave cages nearest the ghoul camp topple by either the earlier explosion or the avatar's hate. A few of the prisoners seem to be recovering quickly enough to try and take advantage of the confusion and the shattering of their prisons to try and crawl or stumble away.
Of Arianna, neither Luthael or any of the other Narg Nasty Six can spot their elven companion amongst the smoke, debris and scrambling enemy.
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An ecstatic cry bursts from Sister Bev's blood soaked lips as the broad shouldered ghoul plies his rather generous and gifted wares upon her worshipful altar of pleasure. The crack of a whip across the ghoul's shoulders punctuates Bev's moan and elicits a grunt of pleasure from the lips of Centurion Rhevus.
"Yes!" Cries Bev her eyes glowing with power. "The emissary joins us. Blessed goddess...accept our pleasure and pain...taste or our blood and grant us your powers." The Bloodsister says breathlessly oblivious to the muttering of gnomes somewhere beyond the walls of the makeshift shrine. Shivering with growing pleasure, Bev opens her mind to the dark angel Syn who has guided her so far along this path.
"Mighty Syn, what blessing and message to you bring from Marena." She gasps as this time the acolyte snaps the whip across her own bared flesh.
Suddenly something tickles her nose. The unwelcome scent of burning hair or perhaps hemp. The distraction is only momentary as both she and Rhevus feel the desire of the Emissary and his moments become even more forceful and urgent.
"Behold! I am Syn. I bring..." The melodious angelic voice calls forth from Bev's lips but is cut off as fiery death and doom envelope the communing priestess and her subjects.
"Rats, Mantis git yer lazy hides over here and feed the eels." Sergant Thirsty hollers to two of her most troublesome soldiers. "Sooner the eels eat, sooner we get eat. Vardasian knows I'm hungry enough to eat half a village myself."
"When ain't you got the munchies sarge?" Rats grumbles, but hurries over to grab the basket of offal.
Legionnaire Mantis leans over and sniffs at the basket nearest him and immediately jerks back, his face wrinkled in disgust. "By Marena's backside! What've they done to this stuff? Smells a month old already." He says carefully picking up the basket and following Rats out onto the rickety wooden platform.
"Do I look like a Necrophage to you Mantis?" Growls Thirsty watching as Mantis carefully tips the basket to dump its putrid contents into the writhing, eel-churned water. "God's pair, I didn't think so. It's just somethin' special to make these fiendish buggers even more voracious when their wings sprout. Now fewer questions or I'll see you end up in..."
"Hold it tight and steady Wallflower, mustn't let it bite another one." The black robed necrophage says. It long gray fingers carefully hold a wriggling eel about three inches long in a pair of shiny steel tweezers. Tiny complaints screech from the writhing eel as it greedily lunges for the opening only a few inches below. An opening created as Legionnaire Wallflower clamps her strong undying hands tight against the jaws of a struggling, wild-eyed prisoner.
Two redcapped gnomes stand nearby watching with curiosity as the necrophage releases the eel that instantly slithers between the man's open teeth. The prisoners panicked grunts and attempts to cough the thing back up are foiled as Wallflower quickly switches her grip and slams the bound man's jaws shut. Sweat pours from the hapless victims forehead and neck where the flesh wriggles as the eel slithers its way deeper into his system.
"An interesting method of infection." Mutters one gnome to the other.
"Simple, but requires much more effort than necessary." Replies the other. "Now a simple paralysis conjuration would render the subject less violent and likely to reject the insertion."
"True...true. However, I'm told that in many cases the demons reject such placid hosts and in some cases turn upon the administrator."
"Interesting. I hadn't heard that."
"By the way...did you hear that Fennel and Holstien lost there caps?"
"What? When was this?"
"Not long ago. A search is on to try and find them, but a declaration is to be held at the next turn of the glass."
"Yes, yes. Best we not dally in dealing with two such careless fools." The second gnome says noting the now placid demeanor of the prisoner as Wallflower drags him back toward the waiting cage. "It will be most unpleasant for all of us if the Witch catches..."
The blast comes much sooner than Arianna had expected. Much, much sooner. She'd not even cleared the camp when the wave of destruction throws her forward like some child's tantrum tossed rag doll. The memory of her mother warning her to never get careless when it comes to fire dances through Arianna's head. A warning with perhaps even more meaning when it comes to highly explosive substances. Shaking her head, the bard quickly figures that she isn't knocked out for long as smoke still roils everywhere and occasional bits of debris continues to tumble from the sky all around her. Yet, the world is eerily silent as she looks around at the shattered tents and a handful of ghouls writhing in pain from missing or broken limbs or in one case, a mass of tent stake protruding from its gut.
An odd ringing buzz fills her ears along with a grating whine like some insect droning directly in her ear. A few waving attempts to swat the annoyance away do no good. They do reveal the blood dripping from her nose and several small cuts along her arm. Minor wounds instantly forgotten with a glance upward into the cloud of smoke and grit. The chilling presence of the unholy ripples through Arianna's being. Writhing within the explosive fueled cloud is a angelic being of overwhelming beauty and at the same time overwhelming darkness. Blood colored skin and black raven wings. Golden hair ruined by fire and blood. An eye buried by an unlucky encounter with an explosive propelled candle holder. Another unholy, fiendish eye gazing out in wild confusion, hatred, and need for revenge. Thrice as tall as a normal mortal man and wielding a wicked, barbed whip, the dark angel lashes out with her weapon capturing a dazed legionnaire in its grip. Unholy lips move but Arianna hears nothing but more buzzing as she stumbles backward and tumbles into the fallen remnant of one of the tents.
The commotion draws the grim eye of the angel, but fortune strikes as another smoke coated, bleeding ghoul exclaims at the site of a red cap discovered not so very far from center of the blast.
More words, unheard. More importantly, more time to slip away.
Arianna gives a silent blessing to Elalune for whatever divine protection she's given, after all, the young elven maiden is certain she should be dead at the moment after her blunder with the timing. Even with the fiendish celestial noticing her clumsiness for a moment, she can't help grinning from ear to ear with a wild, manic laugh dancing deep inside her wanting to get out. Prudence, however, wins and Arianna carefully picks her way out of the camp as she realizes that setting off her second surprise is no longer an option.
She heads for the hedgerows and moves inside of them until she can find a place she can see the landmark she'd picked out. She sings out a soft note and steps through the arcane door way to where the others were making camp.
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Ingryd's honeyed hairs were a warm welcome, between the recent icy blasts of voidspace on the Kindori's back and the chilling, unmoving dark of actual death. I couldn't piece together what she meant about children, but knew of course the topic was close to her big bear heart. Figured it would be distasteful to snatch her purse right then and there (and figured a bee was hiding in there as guard, best not to tango with it). Anyhow I hadn't yet taken my new slim fingers for a spin. Takes practice, that finger dippin'...had some new gear to learn.
Then I could see the search for reason reach maximum overdrive in Gunner's eyes...and empathized. That's what I always liked about the dwarf, pragmatic in the face of absurdity...just like me. No other way to see through illusions, armed with logic there was always a tell. Two types of people in this world: the tenacious, and the gullible. Here too there was a clear reason for my transformation into the gentler sex, but it was going to take time to link cause and effect. Besides, we were missin' a big piece of the puzzle: that the same had happened to Illarya.
And that was Invictusol for you, always keeping a healthy tension in the line...even if it'were just the little shade sail. I told him somethin like "Now you're talkin'. Let's get out of this moth infested juniper grove and into a soapy dip." before Arianna's timebomb ticked its last tock.
Gunnar looks down from the rocky cover, astonished at the scene before him, all thoughts about Scramsax’s seeming lobotomy gone for the moment. As he watches, the Dwarven mage runs mentally through his spells and can think of nothing at the moment that would help—at least until he knew more of the situation.
For now, he watches and waits, trying to understand what is going on in the village below and when he might be able to step in and take action to kill some ghouls and/or save some townspeople…
Luthael arches an eyebrow at Scramsax's missing skull and suggests, "Scramsax, I think you need a hat." Then, an explosion rocked their world.
"What was that? What is that?" The prophet points to the bleeding angel. "Looks like the prisoners are escaping. We're supposed to meet Arianna here, but should someone of us go help them?" He suggests.
Reason gemstones are faceted? Spheres and ovals roll away. It's a sad day when your loot sprouts legs and runs away from you. Ghouls musta felt like that, seeing their prized captives escape into the early dusk. Now if I was them ghouls I'd be dashing fast after, village fires and revved up fallen angels be damned. So I sez to em I sez "Yeah, they aint gonna get far. Let's head em off..."
”Right, right,” says Gunnar, snapping out of his daze and conversing in a low voice with Scramsax about which route to take and where to set up the defense for the escapees as they carefully move forward.
There's a flare of magic as Arianna summons a hasty portal. The elf disappears from the outskirts of the encampment and reappears a fifth of the way toward the rocky pillar where the rest of the Narg Nasty Six watch and hastily prepare to move out.
Once again it is the keen eyed prophet who manages to spot the familiar flare of the bard's magic among the open scrub of the desolate landscape. Unfortunately, Luthael is not the only one with keen eye, or eye given recent events, attuned to arcane frequencies.
The unholy angel's single remaining hate filled orb turn to the same spot Luthael points out. A few short moments later several of the remaining undead legionnaires are lumbering along in pursuit of the mysterious power surge.
Or there's a spot where the creek bed narrows (the creek being reduced to little more than a spindly trickle by the dams and eel pens further upstream in the village). A place that could offer the choke point Gunnar mentioned, but also not exactly the direction the villagers seem to be fleeing. That is more due east along the rough bit of rocky road. Along there you see little help except maybe a small thicket of thorny scrub that might provide a small bit of cover along one flank.
Arianna starts making her way towards the spot she'd picked out, glad to have put some distance between her and any pursuit. With the ringing in her ears and the shear exhilaration she feels at miraculously being alive, she isn't aware that she's been spotted and takes few measures to ensure a stealthy passage.
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Luthael guffaws at Scramsax's self-deprecating joke about his head wound, "... head em off? Good one Scramsax."
Then, he spots the familiar flare of elven magic. "Look. There's Arianna's magic. Let's close the distance with her. After we meet up with her, we can decide what to do next. Let's go." He starts heading in that direction before they reach consensus.
"Hells its no good is it, Gunns? Nothin' but that little diaper rash of a hillock...this one's gonna cost us." Now I don't know if ghouls are all bad, but well I nevers heard em speak my language: gold. Never heard of a ghoul bank full of trade bars, nor a ghoul gemcrafter filling up his safe with rares. In the final analysis then, if I had to choose one civilization to rule, yeah I'd stick with humanity.
Besides, I knew my mates. They'd never let them captives get eaten. This was gonna be a painful showdown with both sides only accepting one possible outcome: the annihilation of the other. Well it was no choice really. I felt Morrin's Misery tingling my spine, a reminder of the miser's cold callousness. A reminder not to be that cold miser. My hands now preferred the warm leather straps of the old hoplite's backup, with an ammo pouch full of soulstones eager to capture the last thread of dark vitality animating these commerce-shunning buttlickers.
Yeah, I think that was the first time I called her. Dekatron! Cheating the magics stolen from Aterro's god, my ring summoned forth a companion outside and adjacent to the normal divine order. A dark leopard of the southern desert highlands, gifted with amethyst eyes lined with the stars of the moonless night's milky path. A rogue animus wandering the outlands without patronage. Dekatron. On this wide open plain, I would need every speed advantage I could muster to stay alive...there was no place to hide.
Huffing and puffing from a somewhat unexpected run across the open scrub, the Narg Nasty Six reunite near a scraggly juniper tree among a few clumps of bunch grass and sage. Looking back toward the village, the angel seems to have dropped out of view. Whether having fallen to the ground from its wounds, returned to whatever plane it was summoned from, or having assumed some alternate guise, one can only guess. But the fate of Marena's fallen angel is of less immediate importance. That role falls to the slower but much less likely to tire pack of ghouls currently trampling what little vegetation still exists as they hurry after the enemy spotted by their unholy ally.
Ushering Dekatron forward I heard a jingle-jangle in my pocket. Those little pigments the false priest of Khors carried were mixing into a new array of colors that tickled my imagination. I could paint a new reality to cover the unfavorable one fate had delivered. But what?
I remembered the legend...that river elf who first bowed to the demon lord of orcs. Cannibalized his own people because, you know, demons really sit up and take notice to that sort of thing. So I figures, what could be a juicier temptation than elf guts?
Arianna laughs as she sees her companions, a wild, manic thing like the rustle of branches in a strong wind and the prancing of wild horses.
"Did you see?! Did you see that," she asks the others, almost shouting to be heard over the ringing in her ears. "A pity that Aterro was not here to bear witness. He is sure to be green with envy when we tell him of this!"
"Arianna, what did you do? What was that explosion?" Luthael is glad to see his companion alive and breathed hard to recover from the run.
"There are some prisoners trying to escape, and ghouls heading this way. Should we clear the threats before protecting them?" The prophet looks for consensus.
”If they gather together at the painted lure, I should be able to catch them with lightning,” suggests Gunnar, indeed already looking for a likely vantage point for such a casting.
The bard's gambit was a damn impressive bit o' sabotage, no doubt about it. The stones underground carried the blast into me teethers like a taught drum being struck. That flash easily outshone the light of dusk, and likely woulda drowned out the full orb o' daylight had it been sooner. That elf was quick, precise, and devastating. I think I started callin' her 'Burst' after that day.
When she came a huffin' n' puffin' back with a smile a mile wide I couldn't help but join the joyful celebration. Griz later recounted I gave that elf a pat on the back just above her waist, but I don't remember anythin' like that. I was soon busy paintin' black hearts, green-spotted livers, and plump pink kidneys like some kinda macabre psycho killer.
Dekatron, my celestial leopard steed, was meanwhile gazing downfield somethin' fierce. Them little peepers o' hers carried a light from beyond the stars, but now they were dead trained on the pack of snarlin' and slobberin' deadies beating the earth to dust. Each prisoner's scream of terror sent the gentle beasts ears deflectin', her lips curling into bright ivory fangs. Yeah, was a tense moment, I remember.
"Oh," Arianna says as the mention of the prisoners brings her back to a more even keel. "Wait, they saw me? But I was pretty sure I got away cleanly, unless. Oh, the corrupted angel thing. Well if they are after me, then let us set up an ambush. I truly wish Aterro were here. It would be nice to have two people adept at dismembering ghouls on the line."
The elf's grin fades quickly as the gravity of the situation sets in.
"Darn, and I was hoping that the gnomes would be taking the fall for the whole thing."
Ingrud smiled as she stood still in her tattered remnants of clithes and smiled. " At least I dresses for this" she laughed as she whirled her hammer and looked at the others.
"If you need my strength let me know Ill help how I can. At least until they get close then I have faces to rearrange!" She jested though her Demeanor was definitely one of eagerness.
While an excited and invigorated Arianna basks in the glow of her first encounter with explosive powder, Scramsax pulls out his paint brushes and begins slapping together a rather macabre scene. A few minutes later as the searching ghouls jog closer and closer, the halfling steps back from a piled mass of offal and body parts fit enough to fill out a torture chambers waste pit. A quick final flick of his brush and several dozen black dots become a swirl of happy flies swirling about the gruesome mass that already begins to emit a noxious stink despite only being in existence for mere seconds.
The wind blowing down off the mountains quickly picks up the scent and shoves it toward the oncoming ghouls like a surly bartender offering half price homemade hooch. The ghouls being what they are, are more than willing to pony up to the proffered bar. After all, there was plenty of time to catch up with whatever fool just blew up a good portion of their camp. Or those fool prisoners who think they'll get far running. Mortal folk tire. They'd catch them...eventually. Plus there were rumors already flying of the gnomes being involved somehow. If the sneaky little shroom heads really were trying to pull a fast one, best they not go harrying off half cocked after what's probably some gnomish flimflam mirage. After all, Marena's angel didn't look to well and who knows what the blood goddesses avatar was really seeing out here. So all the better to enjoy a snack and be ready to head back or follow depending on which way the winds blew. Thus was the reasoning and general consensus among the legionnaires.
In the end, a pragmatic but likely to be fatal decision as the legionnaires turn toward the offal pile a prepare to fill their ever hungry bellies.
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Arianna smells what Scram is doing before she sees it. Realizing it's a distraction, she finds a place to hide and watches for the ghouls. Her eyes flicker with the kind of fury that comes from a kind soul who has seen the horrors the truly depraved can inflict on the innocent.
She nocks an arrow as she settles down and keeps an eye out for the commander of this unit. She thinks about adding an illusion to help sow more confusion, but the ringing in her ears continues, much to her chagrin. She isn't even sure she could hit the right notes to cast the spell. That is fine. They'll know fear soon enough.
Summoning Mamluk, Gunnar says, “Lead the escaped prisoners to our camp. Alert me if you are in danger.”
He also casts See Invisibility and continues to wait in his ambush spot next to Luthael, whispering, ”Assuming they clump up, we should hit them with your fireball and my storm sphere simultaneously. I can see you with my augmented sight, so you make the call and I’ll go right along.”
Yeah I 'members the setup we had for that night on the plains. Gunns and the Prophet were plannin' a boom to rival Burst. Me? Well I was caught with my pants down and rainbow paint for fingers, as was me habit.
"Aye, sounds like a plan." Luthael replies to Gunnar. He lies in wait with the dwarf looking at himself while invisible.
"I'll stand behind and then rush in to finish the stragglers! Unless you want me to try somethinf else" Ingryd asks as she stetches and readies to hit some ghouls.
Arianna settles in and nocks an arrow as she waits for the fight to commence. As soon as Gunnar and Luthael loose their spells, she'd be taking aim at whomever seems to be leading this group.
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It is unclear whether the leopard is repulsed or drawn to the magically created offal pile. Scramsax senses it may be the later as the leopard's shining eyes gaze at the bloody pile, its nose working that direction with eager curiosity. As quick arm and a calming word, aka threat of being turned into one of those hairless house cats carried around by some southern noblewomen. Although fairly certain the halfling is incapable of following through on such a transformative threat, the leopard decides discretion is the better part of valor and hunkers down near the hiding Scramsax.
Arianna deftly works her magic on Gunnar, Ingryd, and Luthael shrouding the three in elven secrets to hide them from unsuspecting undead eyes. With nothing else in sight except a few fleeing prisoners, the ghouls turn aside from their pursuit and fall instead upon the gruesome open air deli.
"Alright you bloated sacks o' maggot meat..." Hollers a ghoul wearing black scaled armor instead of the lighter weight reinforced leather of the other legionnaires. His wavy blond locks are expertly trimmed and moussed so that not a single strand dares deviate from its commanded position. Blue eyes sit above a chiseled chin and thin nose carried in such a way as to convey a nobleman's gift of superiority "Vardesain has blessed us for certain." He says, his voice a bit nasal and filled with greedy hunger as he glances back toward the still smoldering camp. "We've got a turn of the glass to get our fill, then best we be off after fresher meat."
Most of the ghouls let out hungry, enthusiastic shouts and growls as they scamper up to the pile like excited kids ransacking a candy stand. All except one scrawny looking soldier. Her long black hair is neatly tied in a braid that hangs down the center of her back. Bony shoulders barely seem to hold up her leather armor and it looks like she had to poke an extra hole in her belt in order for it to loop small enough to fit around a rail thin waist. Gout is not something this ghoul will ever need fear. For whatever reason she shows little interest in the fortuitous pile of undead snack foods. Instead her wire thin hands tightly grip her oiled and polished to a fine sheen short blade as she scans the surrounding area with a suspicious frown.
"Lieutenant Chaz? Don't you think it's kinda odd a big pile of meat just sittin' out here in the middle o'no where like this?" She somehow manages to hock up a bit of spit from her paper thin frame and manages to knock a buzzing fly out of the air with the gooey mass. "Mighty unusual coincidence if'n you ask me. Some are sayin' the gnomes were the ones who blew up the..."
The beady eyed ghoul unleashes an exasperated groan interrupting the skinny ghoul's worried thought. Grabbing a lengthy strand of intestine and begins to chew and talk at the same time. "The gnomes?! What a load of hogwash. Them runts wouldn't dare. Probably just Wallflower finally blew herself up working for old Gristleblister." He growls. "For Merana's sake, Sliver. *munch*munch* Can't you just *slurp* enjoy our good luck for once? We ain't that far from camp. Probably just stumbled upon the stash of those liver thieves in second squad. *slurp*crunch* They're all blown up now, so we aren't even stealing. In fact, we'd be going against Vardesain's teachings to let such a feast go to waste. *munch*" He pauses to choke down an especially thick piece of gore while running his eyes across his subordinate's scrawny frame. "Seems like you could do a bit better following the hunger god's teachings. But if you really don't want any, then by all means go get a start on tracking down those pathetic fools." He adds waving a hand in the general direction of a handful of fleeing captives.
Sliver's puzzled frown turns to one more of disgust at her commanders lack of...well just about any and every command skill possible. A moment later she just nods, offers a crisp salute and starts to stride after the fleeing escapees. Chaz simply waves a half hearted salute before returning to the feast along with the rest of his squad.
That was about when I was regretten' not passin' on that last plate of Nancy's Pickled Penguin Flappers. Watching those ghouls pay a visit to Chow Town sent that space jerky flutterin in me innards, those tiny webbed feet making' loupe de loupes. Felt my eyes cross and bit my upper lip hard to keep it all down. Probably didn't help my digestion had been halted a spell, what from bein' dead and all. Heh, well, had no one to blame but myself for the grisly sight or the situation downstairs. Had to look on the bright side...they had taken the bait.
Figured I could zip out a soulstone sneaky quick on that greasy Blondie, but was damn sure gonna wait for Gunns and the Prophet to gimme some cover in the form of fire and lightning.
Luthael waits until the right moment to spring the magical ambush. From behind cover, he breathes a prayer to Khors and sends a bead of holy crimson energy into the center of the ghoulish buffet.
Seeing Luthael’s spell start, Gunnar begins casting as well, finishing his spell a split second after the priest’s. A moment after the fireball explodes, the Storm Sphere bursts as well, catching the unwary ghouls and buffeting them in sting winds. A stroke of lightning strikes at at one of the survivors as well!
Meanwhile, Mamluk does his best to lead the prisoners to the relative safety of the party’s camp, unaware that one of the ghouls has peeled off from the main group under assault at the putrescent feeding frenzy below…
With the spells going off, Arianna finds herself having to make a decision, attack the leader as planned or put an arrow into the back of the ghoul chasing off after the prisoners. As fire and lightning rock the battlefield, the elf shifts her aim and goes for the one not caught in the ambush.
Fire and lightning erupt on the open scrublands and among the feasting ghouls. The blast is quickly followed by angry, pain-filled screams of surprise. Undead flesh and offal roast and burn in the elemental conflagration created by Luthael and Gunnar. Adding to the initial chaos, Scramsax snaps one of the magical stones directly off the leader's brow just as the big ghoul makes his first attempt to rally his troops. A moment later the halfling is leaping into the saddle and putting spurs to the big leopard's side.
Taking note of the one ghoul who broke away from the lure of the offal pile, Arianna tracks the single legionnaire with her bow. The elf's arrow is already underway as the ghoul dives to the ground in reaction to the fireball blast. Anticipating correctly, the treant's wooden tipped shaft just catches the undead warrior. The arrow flashes a brilliant white as the treant's hatred lashes out at undead flesh causing a much nastier wound than otherwise would have occurred.
Despite the initial shock and devastation of the attack, these creatures are not the simple offspring of some random necromancer's whim. They are battle hardened members of the Emperor's legions.
"Spread out and take cover!" The big leader growls, this time staying low to the ground to help avoid another painful stone missile. "Crossbows! Get the blasted spellslingers. The rest of you move up!"
The orders seem to have immediate effect as the smoldering group of legionnaires quickly scramble away from each other and move toward the recently revealed Luthael and Gunnar. Two ghouls carrying heavy crossbows, show what years and years of practiced training can achieve as they rapidly load their weapons and snap off a couple of quick shots toward the two casters. But while they are fast, their aim is off and both crossbow bolts miss their intended targets. The rest of the ghouls quickly scramble forward and then drop back to the ground behind whatever limited brush, dips in the land, or rocks available at the moment.
A bit further from the main group, the single ghoul scrambles behind a scraggy bit of scrub brush and draws her own shortbow. The ivory and bloodwood weapon is carved with a variety of unusual symbols and has several beetle-scale fetishes dangling from the ends. Popping up her sketchy cover, the ghoul snaps off a quick reply to Arianna's arrow. The black, barbed shaft flies true and catches the elf in her exposed shoulder. Instantly, the wound begins to fester and sicken causing pain to radiant through Arianna's body.
Fireball - Surprise, no save
Ghoul Captain: 109/165
Ghoul 1: 99/145
Ghoul 2: 99/145
Ghoul 3: 108/145
Ghoul 4: 99/145
Ghoul 5: 92/145
Ghoul 6: 99/145
Sliver: 129/145
Arianna cries out in pain as the arrow saps her life. She grits her teeth and pulls the cruel barb from her arm. Pushing fear and pain back, she raises her voice.
"Show these mockeries of life the wrath of a mother of murdered children," she calls out to Ingryd, her words tingling with an arcane spark of power.
Inspiration sent, she sends two more arrows down range then hides behind some of the meager cover in the area.
Luthael calls out to Khors and creates a wall of holy fire! It springs up around Gunnar's storm to corral them within the killing zone. If he could cover all of them with the opaque flames, he would keep one on the end uncovered to focus fire.
Staying beside Luthael, Gunnar maneuvers slightly to get the ghoul leader and one of his subordinates in a straight line of effect. Flicking his wrist at the two, he grins as lightning shoots at the back of the leader from the storm sphere instead of from a spell originating from the dwarf. As the lightning comes in from behind and causes the ghoul leader to look that way, Gunnar shoots more lightning from his fingertips, trying to get both the leader and the other ghoul simultaneously!
It was tough lettin' that greasy Blondie off easy, but I could figure what Burst was up to changin' the plan on the fly like that. But now she was thick in a private tete-de-tete tango with the dead.
'Sides, Dekatron was givin' me that b***&y snarl, wantin to go back and get a piece for herself. Was a weird kinda magic bond, me and her, we thought to turn back about the same time...down to the tinkle of a single grain o' the sands.
I remembered that fancy ring, still stuffed with some more magic I stole from Aterro's god. When I was gettin' closer, I felt that junk bubblin' back up like 3 day old stew...spewin' out at that rival archer like the One True Authority of the Plains. Er, only drunk and hungover...but somethin' changed my mind at the last moment. Some sense the magic weren't meant for now. I wouldn't figure them hidden reasons, ya know them god mysteries, for a while still.
So, I pulled one of the Fallen Patriarch's stones, and let it fly. I'd have to wait a bit longer for Griz to get into position to do any real damage.