There was an elf here. One of those f**+ers was actually laughing at him. His appeal to them to help them was met with what he exactly expected; more amusement at their predicament. His arms were tired but he still had work to do securing the premise. Another undead broke in, a changeling with a torn face and broken limbs of straw, bits of fur, and sticks. Crawling away from it with Bester, the undead had lumbered up just in time to be unmade from Grommok's power.
"Thank you Mok!" Comes Silas's voice, his head tipping back against the bag of potatoes there. His eyes come to rest on Rusko, giving the orc a nod towards the defenses there. "Help me out here? I need a f~+!ing breather for a bit." It had been hours of this. Hours of the dead moaning. Hours of nailing boards and fighting off small intrusions.
Silas would move around the inn, settling into the bar and pouring himself a glass and then pouring one for the rest of his comrades.
"Come and get a drink. No point dying thirsty, you know? Silas called out, smiling wearily. By the gods, he wanted to sleep. He couldn't risk it though, just taking the moment to try and rest instead.
Rusko steps back from the door, satisfied that for now the risen beating on it were held back...
He hears Silas call out to him and lays down the hammer and gratefully takes the drink, slightly unnerved seeing another changeling...turned into a risen dead! He didn't think such a thing was possible! He was glad when the other Orc uses his ritual to get rid of the undead changeling....it was giving him the willies...
Then hearing a bang at the door, Rusko rushed back , grabbed the hammer and broke open the skull of a zombie that had stuck it's head in!
Hund continues to trot around the inn, snapping back at any who dare to enter.
"Well I guess there is no point dying sober," Baros hops off the the table and heads to the bar were his cup of Dwarf Rotgut was still sitting there. His eyes go wide as he takes a drink, "hmmm... this may actually be flammable. I am Baros, though I am not so sure our names will mean much after this night."
Silas eagerly takes his own glass, pounding it back hard and relishing the burn that runs down his throat. Eyes closing for just a moment, he shook his head as the burn grew that much more intense before easing the warmth through his limbs. At Baros's introduction, he gives a little nod before pouring them all one more glass with another bottle.
"I'm Silas. If we all live though this, we can hold hands and share love letters then. Let's savor the moments we got, yeah?" The irritation at his circumstances are easy to see but the human knows he isn't the only one suffering. Grommok has been bleeding himself to keep him safe and while an orc can be a shifty character, Silas can't hold a grudge against one keeping them safe. "Get a drink you. Steel yourself with something warm."
Not sure what might happen if he stops the ritual, Grommok shakes his head towards Silas.
I cannot! If I stop the dead could overwhelm us. Me and the ghost will keep at it...for now."
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Gelda takes a seat with Silas and Baro's, downing a pint, and then another... And a quart more. 'm Gelda. Me an Nandy own this place. Were a mercenary once though, I was. Fought in 7 wars... Well, 5, but I fought on both side of Two o' 'em. 's ma hammer, up there she slurs, gesturing to the Warhammer above the Bar.
Another bottle, this one of some southron drink you've not heard of before, and she starts retailing you with stories. You can't pinpoint exactly where it is, but slowly, you catch an Idea dawning on her. I could take 'em she declares, hefting the Hammer from it's perch. 'taint mor'n a hunnerd left. One Blow's squash a shamblemen flat. I could swing the ol' girl a hunnerd times... I'm tired I'm this. she takes a few steps away, and does a few experimental swings, and you watch her eyes light up. I got one more fight left in me! she declares as she strides for the door.
What do you do?
Silas watches the woman take her drinks, his eyes widening with every drink she takes. Soon enough though, she is properly liquored and goes about how she was a mercenary once, how she fought in half a dozen wars with her hammer up above. Silas listens with a grin as she regales him with tales of battles of wars he had missed in his own imprisonment, the years that passed so quickly while he was trapped inside that beautiful, hellish dimension. Yet as she begins to talk, he notices the way that she stares out the front from time to time.
He hears her declaration and scoffs quietly to himself, not imagining that she was thinking of actually going out there right? There were dozens and dozens of the foul, undead monstrosities waiting out there. She took those practice swings and then began to make her way to the doorway, confident and strong.
"Wait...wait...you can't be f+@*ing serious Gelda!" Silas says, hopping over the bar to try and intercept in front of her. "That's the spirits talking. You walk out of here and you'll get ripped apart. F$$+ing look around you!" Silas would point to the boarded windows, impromptu barricades, and the fearful looks that were on all their faces including his own.
"Gelda, this is your place. Your battlement. Your...your...I don't f$@#ing know, your fortress and you need to protect us. Look at Ananda, Bester, your patrons, we need a strong woman like you to keep them safe. If we lose you, what are we going to do?" Silas pleaded, hoping to appeal to the drunken woman's sense of honor. He saw how easily she swung that hammer around though and if she was determined to go and die, he wouldn't get in the way. One waste of a good fighter, in his mind though.
"Ware Gelda! Old Nock's powers could be making you do something foolish. Resist the impulse and stay and fight with us and for your home!"
The orc then turns his attention back to the ritual and lets another few drops of blood escape his wound to help feed the ritual.
Ritual:
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Int:
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As Gelda, quite drunk, gets a gleam in her eye, she goes for where the Hammer was, and finds the spot empty. Hammer. Where's ma Hammer she mutters 'o took ma Hammer! she slurs. she picks up a long board with a few nails in one end, and steps forward, giving it a few experimental swings (and almost catches HUIVD on the tail) before pitching it aside. 'Taint ta same She laments.
She is halfway back from the bar, another bottle in hand, when she spots Rusco panting after a bit of exertion, wielding the surprisingly heavy hammer. Oi, tha's Mine she says, crossing the bar in surprisingly swift stumbles, before grabbing at the Hammer. Give it 'ere! I'mma go show em What. Can take em I can
As Gelda finally drowns her drunken fantasies in gin, a fervor seems to take the dead. Maybe Old Nock's lust for blood has reached its creshendo, or maybe some unfortunate twist of fate, but by the beds, three shamblemen (a man missing viscera, a thin woman dead perhaps a month, and a goblin) and two more from the kitchen, An orc and a corpse that is little more than dirty bones.
Finally, you hear a few boards fall from the windows behind you. up stands a corpse in mouldering robes, and another fallen guard, no weapon, but still with his shield upon his back. this one's throat has been cut, and there are still ropes on one ankle.
It wasn't the shamblemen themselves that caused alarm, it's that there were so many of them. Too many. Hund didn't know how he was going to protect everyone in this inn, especially considering the state he was in. No teeth. No claws. He needed to get them back. But he didn't know how, and the thought frightened him. With a half whimper, he froze in place, uncertain what to do. He was ready to run at a moment's notice.
As the Gelda sulks at being entirely inept at retrieving her hammer from the orc, Silas lets out a laugh that is cut short by the collapsing of wood and the moans of the dead that aren't muffled by the barrier outside. Cursing for a moment, he grips his axe before seeing the undead approaching from the storeroom where Bester came running out of.
"Well s%@+. Come here, come and let Silas put you down on the ground." Readying his axe in the air, Silas prepared for the undead to approach.
Will vs Frightened:
Rusko held the hammer out to the wild lady, [b]"Here , see what you can do with it...[/ooc]
Rusko backs away from the horrible, shambling monsters, his eyes wide and swirling. Blinking back tears of fear, he nonetheless has the presense of mind to turn to Mok, holding out his arms, "You need blood?!? Take mine....kill them !!! kill them!!! "
Baros dives behind the bar and covers in fear.
Stepping away from the ritual for the moment, Grommok uses it's power to destroy one of the undead, while he swings at another with his club.
Attack:
Baros and HUIND seek shelter as Silas readies his axe. Rusco hands off the hammer, and Gelda nods.
Grommok lets the wrath of the old gods loose on one shambleman, and charges two more. he brings his club down on the post-mortem goblin
and hears a satisfying crack, as skull and spine strain. but it remains. and it's dirty hands claw at Mock, while the woman swings at him with all her might
The woman's swing goes wide, but filthy s%&& encrusted claws tear into Mok's belly. Mok keels over, clutching at his stomach, as the shamblemen ready to get more blood for Old Nock
Gelda charges forward, and trades blows with the ex-guard, swinging her hammer around.
Gelda brings the hammer around. not enough to quash the zombie, but enough to shatter its rib cage, if the sound is any indication
The Zombie dressed as a wizard rushes HUIVD, arms scrabmbling to seize the mechanical Mutt. HUIVD cannot smell the creature, and for this, he is grateful.
and finally the two from the kitchen shamble out and try to climb over the counter to get at Baros and Silas
The Orc-corpse manages to get over the counter... and meets Silas' axe almost immediately, which takes half it's forearm and looses viscera.
The walking corpse of an orc stumbles in closer towards him now, climbing over the bar's counter. The axe swings hard and fast but he misses the head, instead catching it's arm and severing more of the muscle and flesh. Reeling back, he growled a little bit and set himself up for another swing.
Die, you bastard!"
Fate roll:
Silas' Axe swings and carves another chunk from the deceased orc, now it's arm in full, and a portion of it's chest. offal and bone scatter as the thing falls, having sustained too much damage to continue.
When the creature grabs Hund, he immediately tries to break away!
If successful, he backs away towards the fireplace, hoping the thing will follow him.
[i]Oh hell if I keep cowering like this I am going to get killed![i] Baros thought to himself, shaking himself out of his terror. He spies a spear laying on the ground near one of the dead men. Darting from his cover Baros moves to pick up the spear and attack the nearest zombie.
HUIVD
The Zombie holds fast... and....
Baros
You catch the zombie assailing Gelda in the chest, but meet it's ribcage quickly. you do not seem to inflict a meaningful amount of damage.
Enemy turn
The corpse attacking Gelda swings again. and its fist meets empty air as she brings her hammer around. and she slams into the thing, , quashign the thing into a pancake.
and the creature attacking Baros leans forward and Bites the damned machine. And exactly what you would expect would happen to a monster with very human jaws and teeth trying to eat a hunk of steel happens. that is to say, not much.
Rusko's eyes are still bugged out in fear, but Baros' action of getting up from where he cowered, allows Rusko to act as well.
Still moaning in fear, he grabs a nearby chair and tries to slam it against a nearby shambler...
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Rusco
The Goathorne is one chair poorer as the Zombie and HUIVD's struggle takes the creature from the path of the chair, and it breaks to splinters.
Enemy Slow turn
The Corpse Naught but Bones drags itself over the counter, and claws at Silas, phalanges raking at his chest and throat. But Silas manages to duck away.
The Shamble-goblin lurches to Baros, and tries to take him with the same claws that felled Grommok. and those same claws find purchase in his neck, drawing blood , and blood flows, red and precious from the wound.
and the Shamble-woman moves to assail Rusko. , but her blows fail to land.
He is an orc. his kinda are most suited to my realm a low-tenor voice says, voice echoing slightly, as if the speaker wears a helmet
He died in a ritual. I see him as mine. a voice, soft and aloof, says after a moment
But he died in a hallowed eve, to the hands of the dead. Mine, I think. A voice that some deep part of you recognizes... and fears.
He has called my name thrice this night, that seems ample devotion. The tenor replies
Mine too. and The Lady, and The Old Man, and Mother. If that is the strength of your argument. the soft voice says
Speaking of, where are the old Man and the girl? the tenor replies
It is the Autumnal Eve A voice neither masculine nor feminine offers
Right replies the tenor
"Keep your damn hands off of me, you filthy corpse!" Silas growls out like a mad animal, eyes wide with anger and fear mixed together. He steps back and readies the axe once more, waiting for the inevitable lunge once again. As the undead staggers in, he brings the axe down once more.
The undead moves faster than he expects and the haft of the axe bounces off of its shoulder. Stumbling back from the biting, hungry monster, Silas calls out to the others.
"Keep fighting! Don't let them surround you folks!"
Reeling from the blow and with blood soaking his shirt, Baros strikes back at the shamble-goblin, "DIE... AGAIN!"
Hund continue to pull back as much as he could, trying to escape the grasp of the zombie, backing away towards the fireplace. If it follows him, he'll do his best to knock it into the fire.
Fate Roll!!!:
Silas
Baros
This time, you know to strike with the haft, not the head, and you hear bones break under the wood. the Shamble-goblin stands yet, but you've hurt it.
HUIND
Try as you might, the zombie holds you fast.
The skeleton takes a swing at Silas, continuing to try to goug his eyes. but cannot grab him.
The Shamble-goblin still tastes blood, and it launches at Baros. . it fails, but only by inches. Baros will not be so lucky next time. Gelda decides to put her boot to the Shamble-Goblin's chest, and send it to the ground. and sends it earthward, flailing all the way
Meanwhile, the Zombie gives up on the metalic Hound, and decides to try to saple the much meatier fair that has just joined it. He Holds Rusco Fast, and dirty nails dig into him.
The other deadman, the shamble-woman, decided to smash the stabby metal dog. a dead fist slams down on the metal carapace of HUIVD but hits a reinforced section, and is unable to inflict meaningful damage.
He is undeclared. impressive final moments, but the rules are clear. Insufficient devotion. He is mine says the chilling voice.
And should I press my claim regardless? the Tenor threatens.
My sign is still bright within this sky. My power at it's Zenith. it would please me where you to try. the aloof voice replies.
Oh, of course, little miss. If it weren't the Equinox, the Lady'd be here and you'd be thrice-lucky.
Mother has made no stake. I am not the one claiming for spite, Stag.
Baros continues his attack on the goblin.
He smiles with wicked satisfaction feeling he had paid the creature back for his injury.
Another Fate Roll:
Having been released, Hund rushes over to Mok to check on his friend. The boy was too young to die, and he didn't want to lose someone else. He had lost enough during the war.
With newly made hands, he pressed up against the orc, searching for injuries and hoping he could actually do something. Maybe press some clothing on it to stop the blood. He didn't know. But he had to try.
Fortune was not on their side this hour; just as Hund was going to help his friend, his key stopped turning and he collapsed next to the orc.
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Hund's key sputtered for a moment as if it were about to stop. But in a twist of fortune, it kept going, allowing the clockwork to keep working on his friend.
Alive, the Hund said, resting his head on the orcs chest for just a moment before standing up to glare menacingly at the intruders.
This skeleton was a lucky son of a b&%*~. That was what Silas was considering as he shoved it away from him once more and attacked with the axe in hand once more.