"Hmm. Indeed, a choice easily made, yet I find myself wondering what is to become of Young Jak once the ritual is complete?" Malthus pensively runs his hand through the his beard, shaking off the skin flakes. "How will he be changed?"
The Necromancer nods his head undisturbed by the gruffness of the party's agreement to paying the cost to save Jak.
He quickly gets to work grinding down some ingredients in his mortar jar. Setting the jar down he grabs four deep red candles and places two at Jak's head and two at Jak's feet. HOLD HIM DOWN!" his booms through the darkened confines of the cottage. He sets to lighting the candles and places his hand into the jar letting the dust spill into each candle. Each time it does you watch as the light from the hanging lantern and the candles begins to wane leaving the room in almost complete darkness...
Producing two coins from his pouch worn around his neck he puts them on Jak's eyes. Wasting no time he pulls a bone needle and thread from a pocket, "Now we determine the true will of your companion," and in shock you watch on as the Necromancer plunges the needle through Jak's lips sewing his mouth tightly shut.
The Necromancer now finished sewing Jak's mouth shut draws forth the black dagger instantly speaking, "The curse is old and cannot be destroyed it must return to where it came from. I do not know what will happen next but prepare yourselves." Reaching down he grabs Jak's hand and opening it he slowly slashes across the young scout's palm. A dark, black substance starts to slowly ebb out of the wounded hand and you watch as the Necromancer catches it into the mortar jar. The black ooze bubbling and frothing as it strikes the jar. From out of Jak's nostrils the same black ooze begins to drain out this time dripping to the floor. As it does so a black, acrid smoke fills the house that burns at your eyes and throat.
Jak flails about as you try to hold him down as if seemingly suffocating with nowhere to breath. The room grows cold and you watch on wondering if the boy is about to die! The Necromancer stumbles back tripping and in doing so you watch as the contents of the mortar jar falls onto the ground the substance coalescing into one pool.
Gilhaut knows one thing... well he knows more than one thing but not much more than that truth be told, but he knows necromancy and darkness hates the Light of Archeillus!
Gagging on the smell, coughing, he calls forth his last bit of magic for the day and throws it into the darkness pooling on the floor.
Acheillius, burn away this darkness and evil, he implores.
for Radiant Damage...
Herrick winces as the acrid smoke burns his eyes and nostrils, but he has been in harrowing circumstances before. Not knowing how best to aid Jak, he turns the lad on his side so that he can hopefully breath more easily and tried to clear the black substance from his mouth and nose.
All of you save Jawn begin coughing, your eyes and lungs burn from the smoke in the room. In the barely lit room a cold spills in from nowhere and you feel your lips and fingers stiffen from sudden drop in temperature. Out of the pool you watch a dark shape rise. It is terrifying sight. A macabre of something that was once human. The creature seems like it is formed from hundreds of writhing tendrils. It opens it's mouth and see swarm of flies pour out into the room.
Gilhaut calls upon Acheillius and even as the radiant light cuts through the creature it advances on the Necromancer still holding the dagger in hand.
On the table you watch as the coins fall from Jak's face his eyelids open. He tries to open his mouth but moans in pain his mouth sewed tight.
Gadzooks! I am bereft of Ascheillus' blessings, he says drawing steel and attacking, both hands on the hilt.
[ooc]First attack roll on the critter has Advantage thanks to guiding bolt!
or
For
Bonus attack - War Priest blessing...
For
"mmmmm. MMMMM!" Jak awakes screaming against his sewn mouth with a creature from nightmares looming over him appearing to be formed from hundreds of writhing tendrils. He looks around at the strange setting and pats down his weapons' belt where he finds his trusty shortsword. He rolls off the table to his feet while yanking the blade from its sheath. In desperation, he stabs.
"Young Jak awakens!" Malthus beams. "How fortunate! A grand day, indeed, sires and friends. ... Wait, I believe I was instructed not to call you sires, yet it has been some time, and I am unsure if that agreement, if you will, is still effective... sires." He uses the momentum of his oversized belly to wind up a dagger and whip it at the strange creature.
"He did it." Then more loudly, Jawn says "He did it!"
"Beardson! Concentrate!" Nesserin barks as this new evil reveals it's presence. He keeps a protective stance and strikes with holy purpose.
"By the love of all things arrggghhh!" Herrick screams as he whips his sword from its sheathe and swings it desperately at the blackness.
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