1 square = 5 feet; visibility=6 squares

(as I read vulnerability rules, you roll the usual damage, then this is doubled.)

Ghere's magic scorches the leading skeleton. The undead stares at the warlock with a quiet, hateful fire in its eyes, then charges.

Rurik moves to block the other group of skeletons. His warhammer makes short work of the first one, the blunt weapon crushing the animated bones with ease. The dwarf can almost see the dark magic evaporating as the skeleton finds final rest.

Librand is nowhere to be seen.

The skeletonsshamble forwards, rusty blades raised. Two surround Ghere as the warlock retreats to a corner, and a third stabs at Rurik. _{(the dice gods take their revenge)} All hit, drawing blood from the heroes. Those are minor wounds, however. (Ghere suffers 8 damage, Rurik 4 damage)

The obvious tactic was to fall back through the gate making them come at him in single file, but that would leave Rurik's back open, not something Ghere was comfortable doing. Better to close and he turtled up behind his shield, binding their weapons with his spear, and closed up on Rurik. "Bare is the back without brother to guard it" he chanted, letting Rurik know that he was there.

Full defense, disengage action, move to Q20
AC 20 HP 12

"Where the hells did Brak and Librand go?" Rurik growled angrily. Although he did not acknowledge it as of yet, there was considerable comfort to be found in the fact that Ghere had his back -- it allowed the Dwarven warrior to concentrate on striking the skeleton that had just wounded him.

This time Rurik feinted high and went low with his attack, his warhammer striking the skeleton in the leg and pounding it to dust. As had been the case with the previous skeleton, animated bones collapsed with a rattle and skittered this way and that across the ground.

OOC:
Action: Rurik attacks the skeleton in Q-21:  20:45, Today: Rurik Ironhand rolled 23 using 1d20+6 with rolls of 17. Melee Attack v. Skeleton (AC 13). Hit!

20:47, Today: Rurik Ironhand rolled 12 using 1d8+6 with rolls of 6. Bludgeoning Damage (x2) v. Skeleton. Per the DM's comment, I think that the skelton suffers 6(x2) +6 Damage = 18.

20:48, Today: Rurik Ironhand rolled 3 using 1d10. Hit Location . Left Leg.

1 square = 5 feet; visibility=6 squares

(vulnerability: you just roll damage as normal, add modifiers, then double the final result. Also, I assumg Ghere moves to Q19 - that makes much more sense than bumping into Rurik.)

Ghere, with his excellent grasp of tactics and the current situation, repositioned tactically, leaving the skeleton duo unable to land a telling blow as he did so.

Rurik hewed both leds from the next skeleton to face him, its bones disintegrating into dust and the  echo of adrk magic even before hitting the ground. Only its rusty weapon clatters onto the gravel path. At this rate, the rest of the undead should pose no problem, right?

The undead move forwards in silence, the evil light of their eyes burning with hunger. The well coordinated way the team meets them with makes them unable to score a hit. The dark magic animating them makes them immune to petty considerations such as rage and hopelesness however, and they continue with their assault.

Ghere cased his spear, it having served it's purpose for the nonce, but kept his shield up. Leveling a finger at the skeleton he had damaged before, he finished it off with a blast to the chest. It seemed that She counted these as much of an enemy as anything else, for the familiar reward tented his codpiece.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:53, Sat 19 Dec 2015.

Rurik heard the tell-tale crackling of outgoing magicks from behind him, and it seemed clear that Ghere was whittling down the odds that were facing the two adventurers.

For his part, the Dwarven warrior concentrated upon the next skeleton to come around the corner of the hedge. He swung his heavy warhammer at the creature's head, and smashed it like an eggshell. The animated bones collapsed, and Rurik readied his warhammer for an attack against the next foe that he knew would step up to take the place of the creature that he had just destroyed.

Unfortunately Rurik was a bit over-eager, and swung his hammer too soon when the next skeleton stepped in. The hammer's heavy head went whistling by the creature's rib-cage, but did no damage.

"Bollocks!" Rurik muttered under his breath.

OOC:

Action: 23:54, Yesterday: Rurik Ironhand rolled 25 using 1d20+6 with rolls of 19. Melee Attack v. Skeleton (AC 13). Hit!

23:55, Yesterday: Rurik Ironhand rolled 11 using 1d8+6 with rolls of 5. Damage; [x2 (Bludgeoning Damage)] =  22 points of damage.

23:56, Yesterday: Rurik Ironhand rolled 10 using 1d10. Hit Location. Head.

Note: Rurik attacked the skeleton in Q-21.

00:01, Today: Rurik Ironhand rolled 10 using 1d20+6 with rolls of 4. Action Surge (Readied) Attack v. Skeleton. Miss.

1 square = 5 feet; visibility=6 squares

Another skeleton disintegrates, this time from Ghere's magic, his dark energies mixing with the evil reanimation magic producing a tiny sparkling whirlwind as they cancel eachother out.

Rurik crushes another skeleton into itty bitty splinters of bone, his frustration having little effect other than adding an element to the sounds surrounding the small battle. The thick fog seems to absorb all sound without effort.

The skeletons lash out, the one stepping up over the remains of the last skeleton Rurik disintegrated managing to stab the hero in the right shoulder. (4 damage to Rurik)

One can almost imagine an evil wizard, looking at the scene in a crystal ball, cackling...

There was no question but that Rurik was more effective than him here, and Ghere went on the defensive, focusing his power on enhancing Rurik. The problem was missed blows, so that was what he worked on.

Rurik, your next attack has advantage.

Rurik grunted when one of the magicked skeletons struck him, and when Rurik attacked the skeleton that had wounded him, his warhammer struck the foul creature a little easier than was normally the case. That's Ghere's magicks at work most likely, the Dwarven warrior thought to himself. The warhammer's heavy head struck the skeleton in the ribcage and smashed it to the ground.

When no more skeletons came around the corner of the hedge, Rurik turned to face the creatures that had been on his shield-side.

"Thanks for that," he remarked to Ghere. "Better odds, now."

OOC: 10:44, Today: Rurik Ironhand rolled 21 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 15,9. Melee Attack, (w/ Advantage) v. AC 13. Hit!

Note: Rurik's attack was directed at the skeleton in Q-21.

10:46, Today: Rurik Ironhand rolled 14 using 1d8+6. Damage. Total damage (bludgeoning): 28.

10:47, Today: Rurik Ironhand rolled 7 using 1d10. Hit Location. (Torso.)

1 square = 5 feet; visibility=6 squares

The duo works well in a defensive situation. Ghere allowed the dwarf more movement and attack options by interfering with the other two skeletons, the final result being yet another skeleton reduced to dust.

The interference comes at a price, however. The remaining skeletons manage to score a shallow wound on Ghere (4 damage).

That's about all they manage to do, however. The rest of them get taken out in short order as well. (count the last 3 skeletons as destroyed as well)

Everything is quiet again, apart from the heavy breathing of the two remaining party members. There is just bone dust and rusty fragments left where each skeleton was disintegrated... The fog seems to thicken.

What next?

Ghere heaved a sigh of relief. "That could have gotten very nasty there. Let us find Librand and Brak."

In reply to Ghere (msg # 38):

Even though things had gone well, Rurik was still breathing heavily from the exertion of battle. "Agreed, on both counts," he replied to Ghere.

"I am concerned about Brak's and Librand's disappearance in a place such as this."

"I agree, but we have to find them before we can do anything about it." Ghere moved to where he last saw Librand, looking around.

Librand and Brak were last seen just around the corner of the small mausoleum to the norteast of the two adventurers. They could have disappeared into the fog towards the northeast grave plot; or perhaps towards the centre of the graveyard? The fighting disturbed the gravel path enough that the two weren't able to find any obvious tracks.

So it will take a guess to find those two.

Ghere looked around. "It us unlikely that they moved past you without notice, and I suspect that climbing over these hedges would leave obvious signs. If they went North they would have been caught up fighting that group that closed on us from there, So, South, North and East are unlikely. I say we go West.

Rurik nodded at Ghere's suggestion and replied, "Let's give it a try. My armor is better than yours, so I'll take the lead."

With that, the Dwarven warrior moved off down the path, the gravel cruching lightly under his boots. "Damn this fog to the hells," he muttered. "I can see better than this in absolute darkness."

1 square = 5 feet; visibility=6 squares

Continuing along the path westwards, the duo comes to the largest building in the graveyard. On the old map they acquired it's marked as "mortuary". Its huge fdouble doors seem in disrepair; one of them even hangs off its hinges, allowing the two to peek into the room beyond.

The floor there is strewn with fragments of wooden furniture and caskets; several fonts and rusted metal items are pushed up against the walls of the room. Just at the edge of vision, almost obscured by fog, two large humanoid shadows loom. They stand there, unmovingly. They obviously don't breathe, nor seem to pose any immediate danger. If anything, they look like desiccated corpses.

Ghere shrugged. "We have to check it out." He headed in.

Would Brak and Librand have ventured into a place like this? Rurik wondered to himself. He nodded to Ghere when the Human spoke of the need to investigate the building, but did not speak. Something about this place dampened his spirits, and even speaking in whispers struck him as unseemly.

Rurik stepped into the interior of the building beside Ghere, and peered around the room where the two adventurers found themselves.

1 square = 5 feet; visibility=6 squares

As the two heroes advance into the building, the corpses look up. Teir eyes shine with a dull, evil light; slowly, painfully, they take a step forward towards the intruders. Dull white bone clubs in the hands of the corpses strewn with flecks of rust.

Then the doors to the south open soundlessly. The room beyond is well maintained and lit by scores of candles. A tall figure in a well-tailored black robe stands in the doorway, clucking.

"No no no. We can't have that. Children, show proper respect to our guests. It's so rare to have someone visit me here, after all. It has been months since that Tamalg fellow and his concubine visited." He smiles. His canines are too long and too pointy. The zombies slow, then stop, looking mutely at the two heroes.

"But don't just stand there. Please come in. I hunger for news from the outside. My name is Malygris. I'm sorry I can't offer you any real refreshments." He smiles apologetically, the tone of his voice genuinely friendly. Behind him, you can see a jet-black altar decorated with bleached human skulls - obviously devoted to Myrkul.

Ghere knew his limits. There was no way that they could tackle a vampire or even dhampir. Probably vampire, a dhampir would have food. On the other hand, priests of Myrkul could be dealt with.

"Hail Malygris, priest of the Patient One. I am Ghere, of... excuse me, formerly of the Red Plumes. My companion is Rurik, also a free sword. Perhaps we can help each other. We seek news of two of our companions a dwarf and a halfling, who have just vanished in this place. If you have word of them, or even just a good guess, we would happily exchange that for news."

"But first things first, eh?"
Ghere advanced to the alter, sorting through the skull-cups until he found the one devoted to Myrkul in its aspect as the Dark Lady, the Ender of Pain. Drawing his dagger, he centered the cup for a blood-offering to the Final Mercy. The priest might well claim it after they had gone, but that was between him and his god. The dagger passed once, twice, three times while he uttered the formal ancient words of the Offering. "Lady, an I need Thee, find me."

The blood dripped into the cup, and was answered as Ghere pressed the flat of his blade against his wrist. A clear bell-like tone rang through the temple, and for a moment the skulls seemed to take the form of a matronly woman. "My thanks" Ghere said, stepping back.

Ghere seemed much more comfortable in the twosome's present surroundings than Rurik was. Or, if not, he was a consummate bluffer.

The Dwarven warrior pursed his lips and watched warily as his battle-companion cut his own wrist and used some of his own blood as an offering. He reckoned that the one who had given his name as "Malygris" was quite possibly a vampire; he had never glimpsed such a creature, but had heard tavern tales about how dangerous they could be.

But this Malygris -- at least on the surface -- seemed cordial enough, so Rurik resolved to watch and wait. He was glad of Ghere's presence, and he looked to the Human to take the lead in this conversation . . . keeping his warhammer in hand, the heavy head pointing down towards the floor.

The tall man smiles approvingly at the warlock. The words and the changes do not go unnoticed. Myrkul is a fair god, and everyone gets an equal opportunity with him; Old Lord Skull knows that everyone ends up in his reach sooner or later. Malygris seems even-tempered, infinitely patient and hospitable, with no hint of overt malice in his actions - just as a priest of the Reaper is reputed to be. Then again, it may be that he doesn't consider the heroes to be a threat. The single visible weapon is a curiously ordinary scythe resting on a weapon rack in the corner of the room.

"You are welcome. Again, I am sorry I can't offer any refreshments. Perhaps if you had announced your visit in advance? Hmmm. A dwarf and a halfling, you say? No, I can't say I know of such a recent disappearance nearby. However, I don't get out of here much, you understand." He smiles apologetically.

Ghere notices a golden chain with a heavy medallion hanging around Malygris' neck. This looks definitely out of place for some reason.

Rurik, on the other hand, can barely stand witnessing this. Even the most evil deity in the dwarven pantheon is nowhere as destructive as Myrkul. The black altar and its God symbolize everything a dwarf should stand against.

"Don't worry about it. Hmm, may I ask you a personal question?"

Rurik silently fidgeted as he watched the scene unfold before him. In his opinion, Ghere seemed entirely too comfortable and at ease in surroundings that had the opposite effect on the Dwarven warrior. Still, Ghere had proved himself a brave and worthy battle-companion, and in Rurik's eyes that meant that the Human had a certain amount of leeway in the way that he chose to conduct himself.

After a moment, Rurik decided that he needed to leave this oppressive place that was tended by an evil priest in the service of an evil god.

Clearing his throat, he muttered, "I'll wait outside."