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Fergus again manages to bury his axe into Ser Richard's side, but the silent corpse doesn't make a peep. There's no blood. Terrion presses the attack against the undead guardsman.
With herculean effort the wounded soldier, fells his opponent.
The undead strike back but score no telling hits.
Ser Richard chops down the last of Fergus's twins and then begins carving Fergus himself.
The undead crossbowmen reload.
Illthir and her train of spirits crush the skeleton in the corner. Fergus levels a devastating blow to Ser Richard's gut, one that would have disemboweled an ordinary man, but the Aldori duelist makes no sign that he even felt it. Not a sound ushers from his lips. Then like a mist, the facade falters and Fergus can see what it is that he is battling. It is not Ser Richard, not really, but rather his desiccated, bone-thin corpse sans tongue, dressed in the tatters of his nobleman's garb. At this range not even the burnt, pungent floral bouquets that were spread about the room can obscure the reek of the tomb that surrounds him. From somewhere outside a man screams. The sound is cut off abruptly.
Round 5! (Theme ♬)
The undead guardsmen return the favor.
Varn's man cries out in pain. Then the couch slides into the spiked pit!
The crossbow men at the top of the steps fire down on the cluster of Fergus'. Two of them disappear with a pop.
Ser Richard charges forward and leaps upon the table gaining height over his foes.
With a broad sweep he takes the head from the wounded man holding the trophy up for all to see even as the body stands twitching for a long moment after. The lich (or the illusion) looks on slightly bored from above from the third floor rail. The headless man's body falls with a thud.
Ser Richard leaps the balcony and lands before the wounded man. The swordlord throws a stiff arm the man's way attempting to shove him back into the hole. Remarkably though the man dodges the hand and almost certain death yet again!
"Forgive my lateness." announces Ser Richard from the second floor rail. "I am gratified to see so many of Brevoy's heroes in attendance. Preparations took longer than originally planned, but now we begin."
Zokon gives a sweeping bow, waving his hat "Thankyou for your hospitality Lord." The lord passes with a smile.
In the midst of the greetings, a man strides purposefully up into the room from the gardens bringing the pungent flower scent in his wake. It is Ser Richard your host. "Good evening, friends!" he begins on a high note, and all of your fellow guests quiet. "Please forgive your host's late greeting as well, I am afraid, his premature exit, but as you can see, preparations are ongoing." he says gesturing through the arches at the laborers' white-covered carts. "There is much for me to accomplish these next couple of days, and much more in the days after when our work here truly begins." the lord of all Aldori Swordlords says meeting everyone in attendance's eyes with his own penetrating, hawk's gaze. "Please enjoy the amenities of my estate, until your toil begins. Get to know you fellows, greet the newcomers as they arrive, and any questions...." Igor quickly steps up beside him. "Igor here can answer. And with that I must away. The building of empires is toilsome work." He says with a charming smile. "Please relax, enjoy your meals, and your stay." And with that he exits as food is brought in by a train of house servants with steaming silver platters. |
