Bodric focused on the monster coming at him, trying to shut out everything else - the rain dripping from his bushy eyebrows, the hollering of some mildly important fact or another by his old friend Maksim, and even the strange cry of something out in the gloom beyond the nightmares coming at them.  It took all of his will power to wait until the last moment to try to ensure his throw...

Bodric Battlebelly rolled 12 using 1d20+3 ((9)).

As the axe left his hand and began to tumble end for end at the dog... erm... dogs-headed monstrosity Bodric knew he'd made a good throw. There was a yelp in the gloom in front of him (many octaves lower than he would have liked to hear) as his blade struck home.

Bodric Battlebelly rolled 7 using 1d6+1 ((6)).

After Durgon knelt and laid his hand upon the rider he did indeed feel pity for the man, however it was this man that drew the beasts back this way to the village.  For what purpose he thought? Perhaps just running for his life, maybe not.  Something didn't sit right with the cleric once he saw the rider speaking out loud.  Yes under duress people do strange things but he also remembered the evil a curse or a charm can do.

Durgon felt the cold of the riders body and thought he is far gone, I fear trying to heal him will only delay his suffering and he would be in no shape to help us fight at this point anyway.  He lowered his head as part of him wished he could still do something but he realized as well, none of them could help anyone if they were ALL dead.

He laid his open hand over his Lady's symbol and arose to help his companions leaving the rider in the hands of fate.

Agelia rose, drawing her mace and looking at the Rider.  What have you done... is all that she can think, looking almost accusingly at it.  Any accountability-pinning to be done by the acolyte priestess takes a backseat, however, when she feels something else nearby.  Something even more sinister than the Beasts...

"We haven't got the time for 'fetch' with that carrion-mutt!  I feel something much worse headed our way." She lowers her mace, preparing to run, but nonetheless grips it tightly, just in case she is pressed into combat.  "We should get out of here!"

Yay!

That, there, Action/Cinematic/Fate/Luck/Use The Force! Point will likely go into avoiding the first save-or-die thrown by whatever other terror it is that Agelia detected.   D:
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:06, Fri 25 Oct 2013.

Another wave of paralysis-inducing dread wafted over the companions unhindered by the stones - it seeped through them like a tremendous chill but this time even Agelia was able to resist. The wave was followed by a jarring impact that shifted the gigantic stones of their hiding place and caused chunks of earth and small stones to fall down around them. The cracks they were hiding in suddenly filled with dust and debris which made breathing difficult for a few moments until the howling wind swirled it upwards through the small natural vents in the rocks. The impact was caused by the alligator-headed boar crashing snout-first into their cover. It let out a low pitched squeal of bitter hatred as it went to work trying to root up the large stones and fling them aside. From within his narrow alcove, Korak could smell the breath of the creature, its nose and tusks and insanely numerous teeth chomping less than an armspan away before thrusting into the soil. The smell reminded him of a mass-grave he'd once found by accident and his stomach turned to think of this creature eating the rotting flesh of the dead.

OOC: Fluffy attacks boulder to dig it up 1/3 - Fluffy, rolled 13 using 1d20+4 ((9)). Two more and the main boulder to Korak's entry point goes bye-bye!

Meanwhile, the other aberration, that with twin heads of devil-dogs and a snake-headed tail came sliding to a halt just in front of Bodric's position. One head immediately drove into the crack, but luckily for the dwarf, its head got wedged for a moment, not far from him. The front paws began to churn up soil as the creature began trying to dig the companions out. In order to attack with his axe, Bodric would have to enter the striking zone of the dog-heads, but there was little relief in the presumed protection of the giant boulders. Lighting arched across the sky, illuminating the snake-headed tail poised for a strike. Bodric could never have moved quickly enough to evade the attack and was out of position to do much else. As the thunder boomed, the snake head's jaws and fangs clamped shut.

OOC: Cuddles²' Tail attack on Bodric - Cuddles²' Tail, rolled 16 using 1d20+4 ((12)) vs AC17. Miss!

Bodric felt the terrific force of the snake head clamp onto his shoulder, but luckily for him the fangs did not penetrate his old, second-hand armor. He pulled himself away, struggling to keep his feet in the narrow cleft. The creature's dog heads were howling and baying terribly. Then Bodric's blood chilled a few more degrees as he realized the implications of that sound. What if the aberration was baying at having found and cornered its prey? What if there were something out there, deeper in the trees waiting for the signal from its hunting hound? He could not hear Agelia behind him, but would not have been surprised if he had, them both coming to a similar conclusion at nearly the same time.

OOC: Start Round 7!
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:59, Fri 25 Oct 2013.

Maksim cursed loudly as he failed to find a safe passage out of the stones away from the beasts trying to get in. The gnome's heart sank as he heard the too familiar sound of the dog head baying. Trying to shout of the sounds of the storm and aberrations  Maksim called out as clearly as he could, "Its no good here! The beasts are at the only doors. Theres noway to get on the other side of the rocks from in here! There are some cracks that lead off directly into the storm! Not great but we need to get out of here before the master of this hunt comes along!"

Using the butt of his axe to get the snake-headed tail to let go of his shoulder, Bodric had the sudden thought of the twisted humor fate must have. Four of the companions had just spent the last several days underground, trying to figure out a way to escape... now they were trapped underground trying to figure out how to stay put! The moment may not have been the best time for a hearty chuckle, but it happened to be the only moment the dwarf had available just now.

The snake head reared back, readying itself for another strike while below in the rocks Bodric did the same. He had assumed the most defensive stance he could manage that would still allow him the opportunity to attack if possible. Not that he really wanted to, but the thought of being rooted out by a gigantic gator-pig and then torn to pieces by a two-headed dog monster, caused him to realize there were few other options.  The baying continued as if the aberration knew its master must be nearby and coming soon. The heads took turns baying and snapping at the dwarf in the crack of the rocks.

He heard Maksim shouting something that really only registered as very bad news. He knew not to doubt the stalwart gnome, for he'd known Maksim a long time and trust was not something that was just given away. Bodric flexed his shoulder under the worn armor, it was sore but not hurt. He wondered if his gnome friend might get off another shot over his shoulder, perhaps if he ducked...

"Get one of yer sticks ready Maksim! Come poke one o' these buggers in the eyeball!" he shouted over the raging storm and baying demon-dog.

The Usher giggles excitedly: Oooooh! I love this part! Watch closely!

Maksim Munzuk was known to be wise in that backwoodsy sort of way. He could usually tell, more often than not, the changing in the weather and such. His predictions were based on his experience and 'savvy'. Folks listened when Maksim spoke, which he rarely did, for his warnings usually had some bit of merit to them. His comments about the coming of the huntsman were just such an example. Sadly it would be lost on at least a few of his companions for the storm seemed to swallow his words.

Almost on cue from Maksim's premonition there was a terrific display of lightning on the far end of the village. It struck the ground beneath where the north gate used to be. The noise was deafening and the flash so dazzling that it lit up the inside of the rock warren for several moments. The baying aberration gave a few last triumphant howls as its master appeared astride a demon-horse, terrible beyond description. The huntsman rode carefully and deliberately into the ruined village, his progress marked in stages by the revealing flash of lightning in the dark-as-night afternoon.

The aberrations seemed to double their efforts in their attempts to get at the companions. Inside the warren, on the ground covered in the cold sweat of severe shock lay the rider who had first appeared and disturbed their lunch. "Gilgamar, Gilgamar... storm... disruption... send help! *cough* please, send help!" the man moaned, clenching his fist near to his battered face. Trouble had surely been on the menu along with their stale biscuits, for now they were trapped within a nightmare and Maksim, the wise gnome, was telling them there was no way out!



OOC: So round 7 is still continuing... Durgon, Maksim, Korak, Bodric, Agelia, etc. In the interest of keeping the game moving, I'll dispense with another Save and just let you know that your chars are scared to death and barely able to function.  The new arrival has the same aura of fearfulness that Agelia fell victim to earlier. So narrate it out and we'll skip extra die-rolling for now. ...and remember, you don't necessarily have to post in order of turn. If you feel inspired, go for it!
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:37, Thu 31 Oct 2013.

Durgon felt a wave of fear rush over him like never before. He barely had enough wits about him to grasp his Acorn as his hand shook uncontrollably.  "Lady, Lady we are in dire need of your wisdom, let us be tools for your goodness as I know you would not approve of these foul things destroying your beautiful lands." with that he looked to the sky as the rain fell upon his face.

The water that fell on the face of the servant of Lady Autumn was muddy and gritty from running down through the cracks in the heaved stones overhead. The part of the warren they were in did not go very deep and was, as Maksim had declared, a dead end. Between the howling of the storm and the baying of the dog-like aberration, it might have been doubted whether or not Durgon's prayer made it past the muddy stones overhead. His confirmation came with another surge of heat and light from his acorn amulet.

Outside the boar-demon paused momentarily at the flash of light from within. Then, enraged more than before, it continued to root and try to topple or dislodge the stones around the mighty Korak in an attempt to get the puny mortals within.

On the warren floor behind Durgon, the rider slurred more words as his consciousness began to fade. He was shaking now, his fist close to his lips, murmuring as if to his silver ring, "...send help... please... send help..."

Agelia notices the Rider speaking into his ring.  She looks around herself, and able to keep from completely locking up, whispers a prayer to herself as she touches her Holy Symbol.  I sincerely hope that that he's actually sending a message through that ring and not just delirious...

Using Holy Symbol to cast detect magic; Agelia hopes to find out whether or not the Rider has sent for help.

Agelia found it difficult to read the face of the rider lying on the floor of the rock warren in the near-darkness. He had an ageless look about him - he could be late twenties or late seventies - it was hard to tell. The man was very pale, his trembling lips were losing their color as well. His body spasmed now and again. He had lost too much blood. His fist remained clenched to his lips and his pleas grew weaker and weaker until they were only a whisper in the wind and thunder... "Gilgamar... help..."

PM
[Private to Agelia Redstart: Your holy symbol burns in your hands and has not quit doing so since the aberrations appeared and the storm came with them. You feel the connection to your God as strongly as you ever have, but strangely there seems to be some sort of interference. You shrug it off as mortal fear and try to concentrate on your spell. The magic comes to you although it is slippery and hard to control. The focus of your spell, the ring on the rider's hand suddenly gives off a violet hue of faint light, interestingly similar in color to his blood-soaked surcoat.

The strength of the light would normally give you some indication of the strength of the enchantment, however magic is doing some weird stuff right now, so you can't really be sure. The color of the light matching the clothing of the rider is indicative of the enchantment being personalized to him perhaps? The magic of your spell feels fickle, rebellious, yet timid. As you use the amulet more you may learn of its subtleties and nuances...

In a nutshell: Yes, the ring is magical, but you wouldn't bet your life on it being able to communicate. Then again... ]

Agelia almost finished her prayer and was about to release the spell when a particularly violent yowl came from the aberration trying to attack Bodric. When she looked its way, the prayer of discernment still on her lips, she was shocked to see the vortex of magical power surrounding the creature. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, mesmerizing in its beauty and terrifying. It was devoid of color, in fact, it was devoid of light entirely as if it were sucking light out of the world, yet for a brief moment she could see it and felt drawn to it.  The amulet around her neck flared, as had that of Durgon, but to her, it was like a slap in the face. Her spell ended so suddenly she gasped! It had been stopped from the other end... Her God did not want her to look upon the aura of the beasts!

The Usher considers: We'll skip ahead just a bit. I think Korak's still pretty occupied with work stuff. Will Maksim take his chance to attack this round? We shall have to see..

Agelia fell backwards a bit, whether from what she'd just experienced or from the sudden attack by the boar-like aberration, she couldn't tell. The creature gave a roaring, deep-toned squeal as it tried again to lift the massive stone Korak was standing behind with its snout. The warren shook and more loose stones and dirt fell down on the companions. The stone shifted some, increasing the opening but still not enough for the creature to get in. Korak stood by with axe poised, perhaps the calmest of the group and waited for his chance to strike.  When it came he bellowed a primal war cry and attacked the creature's snout!

The Usher, on behalf of Korak, rolled 21 using 1d20+4 ((17)). Attack on Fluffy's snout...
The Usher, on behalf of Korak, rolled 1 using 1d10 ((1)).

Considering the confined space in which the half-orc had to swing, it turned out to be a very good attack. The swing connected solidly and Korak was able to recover and step back within the confines of the stones. He was frustrated to have only drawn a small line of a wound upon the beast's boar-nose.  The creature seemed only to become more enraged, if that were possible and continued digging and rooting in a flurry.

The Usher, for the NPC Fluffy, rolled 18 using 1d20+4 ((14)). Root open rock entrance 2/3...

The dwarf felt another wave of fear wash over him. His knees were shaking in spite of his millennium-bred dwarven determination. His muscles did not seem to want to obey his mind, which was sending them mixed signals.  Instincts told him to flee for his life and attack for the same. Flight and Fight, Fight and Flight both warring within him at the same time. In the end, it was only his trust in his gnomish friend Maksim that allowed him to regain control. There was no way out - nowhere to run - and so that option was tossed out into the rain and mud with the multi-headed demon-freak that was trying to dig its way in.

The snake head undulated in the darkness and rain, illuminated now and again by the searing lightning bolts that were exploding around the countryside. It struck again, but was unable to bite the dwarf for he had learned from its first attack and had moved his body at a slight angle behind the rocks. Like his axe-wielding partner, Korak the half-orc, Bodric waited until the snake head was over-extended and then struck with his own worn weapon.

The Usher, for the NPC Cuddles' Snake Tail, rolled 8 using 1d20+4 ((4)). Miss!

Bodric Battlebelly rolled 23 using 1d20+3 ((20)). Attack Cuddles' snake-tail.
Ooooh Baby! That was the right time for that roll!!! BTW, that's a natural 20... ;-)

Bodric Battlebelly rolled 5 using 1d8+1 ((4)). Axe damage to snake head.

There was a satisfying crunch as the axe bit into the abberation's snake-head. With a terrible hiss it rared back, accompanied by a double painful yelp from the two doglike heads. Bodric wiped the mud and rain from his forehead and readied his axe again. Another lightning flash revealed the snake-headed tail thrashing about it pain.

In the distance a sinister malevolence continued to walk its way into the ruined village. It did not appear concerned as it knew very well there were no living souls remaining... except for those his faithful servants had trapped. Soon the evil presence was within sight of the rock warren where the companions were hiding, fighting for their lives against creatures of nightmare.  None living could see the satisfied smile that formed on the 'face' of the Being.

"Weeelll done, my pets," an other worldly voice purred into the storm. "They shall not hide for long..."

The all too familiar wash of fear rolled over Maksim again, unsure if it was the baying of the beasts or the arrival of their master. With a grunt of frustration the gnome nocked another arrow and sent it past Bodric's ear into the maw at the opening.

"WHY DID WE AGREE TO RETURN TODAY AND NOT NEXT WEEK?"

---

OOC:
17:54, Today: Maksim Munzuk rolled 3 using 1d6+2 with rolls of 1. arrow damage.
17:54, Today: Maksim Munzuk rolled 20 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 17. attack cuddles.

Why didn't I take the other road?! Agelia asked herself, shaking her head.

She did nothing but rise to her feet, and grip her mace with both hands... Spurred by the dwarf and half-orc's actions, she made her way to the boar-headed beast and brought her mace down in a vertical strike...

Caution to the wind!  Attacking Demon Pig Dog.

:46, Mon 04 Nov 2013: Agelia Redstart rolled 17,2 using 1d20,1d8 ((17,2)).

Any Luck Points will go towards preventing Agelia from getting killified.   :D

Korak swung his axe, in the blind fury of his rage his hands knew not the reason for the attack but nonetheless there it was, furious screams from his lips. Perhaps doing more damage with spit than with steel, Korak did what Korak was born to do.



<sub>OOC: Tue 05 Nov 2013: Korak rolled 10,2 using 1d20+3,1d10 ((7,2)).


Ye gods that just blueth!</sub>
This message was last edited by the player at 01:58, Wed 06 Nov 2013.

The storm raged on as if the companions were trapped in a dwarven globe-toy in the hands of a truant halfling playing a game of 'What's in my pouches' with a den full of drunken kobolds who thought they smelled fairy-berry jam. In other words, it was nigh apocalyptic. The chill wind that forced icy raindrops sideways through the openings in the rock seemed to carry the screams of a thousand thousand tormented souls it its shrieking gusts. Water from above that had been slowly dripping down through the cracks in the jumbled pile of massive stones was no longer dripping - It game in running rivulets that felt cold and gritty when they ran down one's spine as had just happened to the mighty Korak.

Again frustrated by his seemingly ineffective attacks on the boar-like monstrosity, he readied for another attack as the creature seemed to be more intent on digging than bleeding at the moment.  Korak scanned the area beyond his aberration, noting the coming of the huntsman and the devastation of the village when illuminated by frequent, ear-splitting peals of lightning and thunder.

Not far to his right was the stalwart Bodric, filling his entry point with a worn battle-axe and his massive abdominal girth. Bodric's iron cap sat slightly askew from the frequent swipes the dwarf was making across his forehead to keep the muddy rainwater out of his eyes. The bushy eyebrows and beard were acting as a sort of filter, letting the rain drip from their shaggy tips and collecting all the grit within.  Bodric instinctively ducked a little as his old friend Maksim's arrow sliced past his ear and lodged itself in the retreating maw of the snake-headed tail.  It seemed to pause, wounded and pained, considering how to attack again.

Maksim Munzuk, the wise gnomish archer who was cursing his timeliness on returning to Gilgamar struck a well placed shot, narrowly missing Bodric's rather large ear. The little man was frustrated at their predicament, having led them all here to a dead end with no way out. In the back of his mind he kept telling himself that their end would have been dead much sooner if they hadn't gotten into the rocks.

Also questioning the consequences of her recent choices was a beautiful young acolyte wielding a mace. Perhaps with a bit of cleanup and wiping of filth and mud and some dry robes and perhaps a steaming cup of some of Maksim's herbal concoctions she would have been striking, but in these situations a girl had to do what a girl had to do... and that meant smash something really hard with her mace. Which she tried. In which she was successful. And if the enemy would have been a pygmy satyr or perhaps an inebriated orcling, the enemy would have been sorely stung by her wrath.  This enemy was nothing of the sort, it was the servant-pet of an Ulir, it was The Nothalotch, eater of the dead and devourer of the living. Agelia was pleased to see a bruise form on the side of the creature's snout. That, at least, was something!

Praying for aid that he knew they sorely needed was the young priest of Lady Autumn. Durgon's hand had not strayed from the acorn encircled holy symbol he wore. He felt embarrassed by his fear even after he'd received such a strong... sentiment from his Goddess regarding their situation. He realized the fear emanated from the supernatural beings that had arrived and were currently trying to kill them. He let the amulet's warmth flow through him as he looked over the shoulders of Korak and the young priestess. As he did so, the fear began to wane and his vision sharpened, allowing his eyes to penetrate to some degree, the gloom and rain and look upon the huntsman who had just passed the sight where they'd sat down for lunch. The place their trouble started. The Golden Toad Inn.

Behind all of them, as they fought for their lives to the best of their ability against enemies far too powerful to defeat, lay the rider on the muddy floor of the warren. His hand was clutched near to his face, an unremarkable ring pressed to his lips. His eyes closed and his whispered plea was swallowed by the howling of wind and hell-hound. He shuddered briefly and then was still.

~~~~

To the east of the entrapped party, near the burnt-out remains of a small conservative hut stood another figure in robes the color of midnight. The unnerving shrieks from this figure had now passed into the late afternoon, and now the figure was silent and resolved in what it must do. With measured steps the figure stumbled down the vacant pathway it had run down as a child. Each step was a memory, crossing the mind's eye in an instant that seemed to take forever before being replaced by the next.  The storm, lightning, thunder, rain, howling and pawing aberrations seemed to mean nothing to the figure as it deliberately paced its way to intercept the horrible mounted huntsman who had appeared to answer the call of his baying hound.  In one hand the figure held a wicked-looking hand-scythe. In the other, protected by the draped sleeve of his black robes, was a scroll, both ancient and forbidden.

~~~~

Begin Round 8!
Durgon, Maksim, Korak, Bodric, Agelia, Fluffy, Cuddles², The Huntsman, and finally the dark robed Figure.  Post when ya can, and get creative!  Fluffy will likely dig his way into the warren this round... eeep!

@Maksim & Agelia - way to go pulling the back-story/intro back around...

Bolstered by her success against the filthy Chaos-Swine, Agelia took another swing at it.  Something played out in her mind's eye... It was an event that she referred to inside her head, whenever she thought about doing something foolish.

It was around four, maybe five years ago.  Agelia and her fellow troublemakers...and Lysette...were gathered with most of the rest of the town to watch two mages duel.  As fascinating as it was, despite Orbri's protests, Agelia thought that perhaps something could be done to spice things up.

Both of the mages were nobility of a sort, and as far as Agelia could tell, they were bickering over blue-blooded matters, when they decided it would be a stellar idea to duel one another in the middle of town.  Yes, Agelia thought, 'Brilliant.  Rend the Cosmos at each other until one of you gets killed or simpers.  Either way, one of your egoes and one of your holdings will swell.  The other mage might swell, too, depending!  Or, you'll end up injuring these pole-neckers, and we'll all have to bandage and salve up those unfortunate enough to survive.'

The two were at a stand-still.  Several times over five minutes, Sir Kianos had almost overpowered Lord Lekh, but the same could be said of Lord Lekh.  'Gesture, words, flicker; gesture, words, flicker...' Etiquette - ye gods - demanded that Agelia stay until the duel was finished.  'Maybe I can hurry things along...' She thought.  After all, these two posturing robed freaks were only Men.  When they died, their names would pass out of history in the length of a half-elf's snore; in the length of a drunken halfling's, everything of theirs would change hands.  Nothing that they could do would be eternal, unless one of them was secretly a lich, or a dragon, or an elf, or a god made flesh.

In a move that shocked even Orbri, Agelia, "Agent of Change", called out from her place in the crowd.  Watch out, I see crossbowmen! The resulting confusion finally bought Sir Kianos - the visiting mage - the upper hand, but his spell went awry.  Where he no doubt intended to make Lord Lekh's bone density decrease or his thoughts calcify, he instead turned him a lovely shade of mauve.  Nobody noticed this until much later, however, as Agelia's cry generated a significant amount of panic.  She only avoided having her foot put in her mouth for her by dumb luck.

That was Agelia's filter: The thought of 'Is this a worse idea than interrupting a mage-duel because I'm bored?' Of course, filters be damned right now, Agelia had a Nothalotch, a Chaos-Swinagator, to see to.  If she survived, this incident, where she stood toe-to-toe with wet-behind-the-ears allies against something so terrifying, would be at the very top of her mental filters for a long time.

Agelia felt her blow connect!

22:50, Thu 07 Nov 2013: Agelia Redstart rolled 17,7 using 1d20,1d8 ((17,7)).

Bodric realized that his eyes were beginning to adapt to the strobe-like effects of the surrounding darkness intermittently interrupted by lighting strikes. In one such flash that stood cooking a far-off tree, the dwarf noted the snake-like tail of the two-headed monstrosity was no longer trying to get into the warren.  There were at least two arrows sticking out from it and a couple of nasty looking axe-gashes. Bodric was amazed to be still drawing breath, but there was a part of him, stubborn and unyielding like the stones around him that defied this aberration, this monstrosity that had come unbidden to his home village. It was with that defiance and a hearty battle-cry that for the first time Bodric advanced just a step or two in order to strike at one of the dog heads.

"FEEL THE AXE YE HELL-SPAWN!!!" Bodric roared.

Bodric Battlebelly rolled 17,4 using d20+3,d8+1 ((14,3)).

As he edged out, one of the heads arched upwards and bayed loudly to its Master. The other turned to snap at the dwarf. Bodric was ready and somehow in the darkness was able to connect solidly. With a slight yelp the aberration pulled back and then roared in enraged fury. It was then, with the beast slightly out of the line of sight, that Bodric saw the advancing Huntsman.

The dwarf felt his throat constrict as the feeling of fear washed over him again. He stepped backwards in spite of his best efforts of being brave. It was lucky for him that he did because the baying dog-head suddenly snapped at him. He was still positioned such that the jaws clamped on empty air, the dog head was just a bit too large to fit into the gap in the rock opening Bodric was defending.  Beyond the hound, the Hunstman suddenly paused and another dark clothed figure entered the scene.

"What? Who be...? NO! YE FOOL! FLEE!" Bodric shouted into the storm, for in one of the brilliant flashes he'd seen who had emerged from the wreckage of the village to face the mounted Huntsman.

The Usher whispers: Ooooh! A little mystery, a little plot twist. Any guesses who the robed figure might be? Anyone?

The Huntsman halted his mount which heaved and blustered beneath him, angry at its Master for the delay, but ready for the nudge of the razor sharp spurs that would signal the beast to run-down the puny mortal standing before it. The steam from its nostrils was pungent as of the stomach acid of some hell-spawned aberration, which incidentally it happened to be. Its hooves were actually toes tipped with short, but very sharp, talons. Its eyes glowed with the light of the fires of a soul-searing hell. It strained at the reins in its Master's grip and chomped on the spiked bit in its fanged mouth as drips of its own dark blood dripped from its maw.

The dark robed figure stopped and turned to face the Huntsman. It seemed completely unafraid, either insane or determined to die or perhaps both. The wind and rain and lightning seemed to increase even more in anticipation of the Huntsman's coming destruction of this foolish mortal who dared stand in his way.

~~~~

Within the cramped confines of the cave, the cleric of Lady Autumn - the Goddess of the Harvest and The Reaping of Crops Sown, dropped to his knees in prayer. He grasped his holy symbol in both hands and fervently offered up his pleas. This was an act of sincere faith on his behalf, knowing that they would surely be destroyed if there were not some intervention from beyond. Durgon was no coward, but had quickly realized the dire gravity of their situation and was doing the thing he thought would help the most.

OOC: I see Durgon hasn't logged in in over a week. I hope he's ok. I'll NPC Durgon for a while and lets hope he comes back!

Taking a different path than her counterpart, the young cleric of Taiiemnian slipped past the mighty half-orc and landed a solid blow to the swineagator's (excellent word that) snout. The beast let out a deafening squeal-roar but continued to dig at the stone. As Agelia dance-stepped out of Korak's way, she hoped her blow would open an attack for the brute.

~~~~

There seemed to suddenly come a pause in the lightning, although the wind continued to howl and the rain continued to fall by the barrel-full. In the dim gloom that was mid-afternoon turned night, stood the Agent of the Chaos that had burst upon the humble village of Gilgamar. The Huntsman, Master of hell-hound and hell-hog, slowly unsheathed a long, dark sword... the sound of which sliding from its scabbard was like the adamantine claws of a black dragon scraping down a castle wall. When the blade cleared its scabbard it burst into flames and was leveled at the robed figure standing on the muddy path before it.

"SPEAK THY NAME BEFORE I STRIKE THEE DOWN TO HELL!" the Huntsman commanded the dark-robed figure in a powerful voice that shook the very stones the companions were hiding under. The Hound bayed in tandem, one mournful, the other mocking...

Maksim was reloading his bow as Bodric stepped to the dog headed beast. He just caught sight of the new figure apparently blocking the huntsman from the group. Letting another arrow fly, the gnome cursed his fortune. "What the Hells is happening out there!"

---

OOC:
10:20, Today: Maksim Munzuk rolled 8 using 1d6+2 with rolls of 6. arrow damage.
10:20, Today: Maksim Munzuk rolled 12 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 9. attack dog squared.

Taking advantage of the brief lull in the storm outside, Maksim loosed another of his sharp arrows at the dog-like aberration. Even though it was dark outside, his arrow hit home, and did so in a very sensitive spot. One of the snarling heads suddenly yowled and rared back from the hole Bodric was trying to plug with his vast girth. Deeply rooted into the upper lip and cheek of one of the beast's heads was the arrow and every time the jaw worked, the sharp tip cut and scraped, causing intense pain.

The creature halted its attack momentarily as it tried to stop the stinging arrow. The opposite head snapped at it and one front paw tried to pin it to the ground. It was to no avail and soon the shaft snapped off, leaving the painful part still embedded under the flesh.

"Ha HA! Nice shootin' Maksim!" Bodric hollered over his shoulder to his old friend. With the baying stopped and the way opened up before them a little, they could get a better look at was transpiring beyond between the Huntsman and the Robed Figure...

OOC: I'll give Korak and Durgon another chance to post as I don't have time to finish this one yet. Hopefully in a day or two I will and if they haven't responded by then I'll NPC them until they return.  Everyone's busy, that's OK, let's keep this thing right here and move it forward as we can.  You're all great players and I apologize for my inactivity while I'm getting squared away. I'll be back soon!

The massive stone that made up half of the opening which the mighty Korak defended against the demon-boar began to shift slightly. With a shout of warning he jumped forward to attack the snout again as he could see the weakening of their refuge.

The Usher, on behalf of Korak, rolled 16,7 using d20+4,d10 ((12,7)). Axe attack, Damage.

The great axe of his father bit into the tough flesh of the creature's snout and elicited a squeal of rage. The snout was a very sensitive area, and the weight of Korak's ancestral axe caused a great deal of pain even if it did not do much damage to the beast.

Durgon, servant of the Lady suddenly leapt from his kneeling in prayer and shouted to the others, "Fall back! Get to the rear of the cave! My Goddess has warned me!"

And indeed she had, in that special way that was personal to the cleric, his prayer had been answered. They were to move to the back of the cave immediately.  He reached and pulled Agelia's arm, desperate in his urgency. He seemed to see Bodric look back over his shoulder and make a rude sound. Durgon guessed the response from Korak would be the same...

The boar-like demon, even though wounded, began again to root around the large boulder. Again it began to sag and then with a cloud of debris and dust, it fell over. The ceiling above came crashing down and threatened to crush Korak beneath!

The Usher, on behalf of Korak, rolled 16 using 1d20 ((16)).

Somehow he was able to push himself backwards, perhaps with the warning of his new companion, the cleric. As he came to a crash on his hind-end, a ways back from the entryway, he shook away the dust and stones that had collapsed in them.  They could all hear the boar's terrible squeal triumph! It was almost in now!

~~~~

"I shall not yield foul Ulir! You have caused grief and suffering beyond measure this day, you have destroyed this peaceful village, and worse, you have murdered innocents in doing so.  Gilgamar could not protect herself as a living community... PERHAPS SHE MAY DO SO IN DEATH!"  The dark-robed Figure stood defiantly before the Huntsman. He suddenly raised an arm high above his head, holding the hand-scythe aloft as if it perhaps held some sort of power the Figure could unlock.

The Usher whispers: To be Continued...

OOC: So I'm still trying to keep up here. Please bear with me folks!  I'll finish this post tomorrow. Maksim, your shot basically caused the Hound to lose this round's opportunity to attack! Nice!

The Usher opens one eye sleepily to find the Play is still going on. He pokes a little at the Audience who have also been afflicted with the effects of some sleeping spell or another... perhaps the sodas were spiked with a potion?

The Huntsman's flaming blade never wavered, though from somewhere, everywhere, came the sound of his laughter.

"Thou would stop me? Thou would stand in my way and dare to even speak in my presence? Thou would consider me Ulir, an outcast?" The hideous laughter reverberated within the cave and off the large stones. "Speak thy name! I command thee and give thee this one last chance. I have returned from my unjust exile and am needful of leaders. Tell me thy name and I will grant thee power far greater than thou hast ever dared to dream might be thine. Kneel before me and I will make thee one of my own as I take this world from those that have denied my presence here!"

The dark-robed Figure standing in the buffeting storm on the dead streets of Gilgamar did not bother to give an answer. The Figure had given himself over to the magic, dark magic, forbidden magic... a magic that was far too powerful for him to utter, a magic that would exact a terrible price for its utterance.

~~~~

Inside the cave, the companions crowded together near the remaining entrance, and only exit. Korak had been guarding the other from the boar-like aberration, but had gotten clear when it was collapsed. From the sounds without and the shaking and dislodging of dust and grit, they guessed it would not be long before a toothy boar-snout made its way in. Bodric the dwarf and his old friend Maksim protected the remaining portal now. Their combined efforts had caused the dog-like aberration to withdraw just a bit as it writhed in pain and frustration.

Behind them, two clerics uttered prayers to their Deities and the body of the wounded rider grew cold, still clutching his fist, and ring, near to his wordless mouth. Grit, dust and stones showered the group and they were forced to cover their mouths and noses with bits of cloth in order to breathe.

They would find themselves holding their breath anyway as they looked out to see a dark-robed Figure standing between them and the demon-mounted Huntsman.

~~~~

The flaming sword flared with its wielder's anger at the insolence of the dark-robed Figure. The Figure stood with one arm raised holding a wicked-looking hand scythe and then raised the other holding an aged parchment which glowed in the darkness with an unholy light. The flaming sword wavered slightly before flaring anew. "STOP! Thou foolish mortal! Thou has not the power to..."

~~~~

Bodric coughed a bit of grime from his lungs. He, of all of them, was the most accustomed to the thickening air. He gripped his axe as he dared to lean out of the cave mouth just a bit.  "Who could that be? Kinna looks like..."

~~~~

"EXVALDIUM NECRILLI MERCUREAVEL GILGAMAR!!!" the dark-robed Figure cried as the scroll burst into unearthly black flames and the hand-scythe descended to rake across the Figure's abdomen.

~~~~

"NO!" shouted the Huntsman and the sound split rocks. There was a sudden lurching of the ground and the companions fell to their feet. The stones over their heads shifted and threatened to crush them. The lightning and thunder that had been held in check suddenly exploded around them. All of this caused by the outcast Ulir who was suddenly raging and fearful of whatever it was the dark-robed Figure had done.

~~~~

"...Tuar!" finished the dwarf just as the world jumped beneath his feet. The stones making up their place of refuge suddenly shifted as the ground itself began to shake. Outside they heard the hell-hog squeal, whether from glee or surprise, they would never know. The hell-hound bayed again, but this time it was more of a fearful sound.

~~~~

Dark light, or perhaps the absence of light, burst around the dark-robed Figure that Bodric had correctly identified as the apprentice necromancer. He'd grown up in the small village of Gilgamar and had gone his way when the others had left, promising to return. He had done so only to find destruction and death. His home was in ashes and his mother's body... a burnt corpse slumped in the familiar doorway. A shockwave arched out around him as the terrible curse was unleashed. How he had come by the artifact of ancient knowledge would never be known, but the hushed stories of haunted Gilgamar would never fully expound on the power unleashed this day.

~~~~

The Huntsman roared in anger and plunged his razor-sharp spurs into his hideous mount's flanks. The beast leapt forth enthusiastically as fresh blood dripped from the gouges on its side. The iron claws churned up clods of earth and the flaming sword flared angrily as it swept down to destroy the foolish youth and stop his cursing of Gilgamar.

~~~~

Energies were unleashed beyond the visual spectrum of Men or even Dwarves and Elves. The concussion of Tuar's cursing caused the teetering stones above to finally come crashing down. The companions huddled together fearfully in whatever pocket they could find as the crushing and grinding happened around them.  The smell of splitting stone and earth mingled with that of rain as the world around them shook and quaked.

Suddenly, in the darkness, the companions felt themselves sliding downward as the heaved stones below them gave way to the quaking, and then they were falling into a stygian gloom.

~~~~

The Ulir's blade struck the dark-robed Figure, but it found no purchase, only swung right through! The Huntsman wheeled his charging mount and snarled only to find that Tuar had grown translucent and as hideous as the mount upon which the Ulir rode.

~~~~

Tuar, transformed by the forbidden curse which had been scrawled upon the ancient parchment, pointed a finger to the North and in a voice that echoed around him even to the ears of the falling companions, commanded. "Leave now. The village of Gilgamar abhors and denounces you as Ulir, forsaken, damned, and outcast. The souls of those you've killed here are now against you and will protect this place from all intruders forever. Leave now!" As he said this, Gilgamar's inhabitants, once dead and now un-dead materialized in an army at Tuar's back. Their spectral faces and outstretched arms pointing in unison for the Ulir to leave.  The newly transformed Lich, Tuar, formerly of Gilgamar and now its protector raised his hand-scythe which now burned with the same unholy light.

~~~~

As the confrontation and otherworldly goings-on disappeared from view, Bodric could not help but think how grateful he was that his own family had departed Gilgamar years before. His failing as a husband and father may have saved them from the eternal un-death that Gilgamar's inhabitants now found themselves in as they haunted their homes forever...

~~~~

End of Chapter 1

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The Usher chortles: Woo! Did any of you guess? Now that Gilgamar is haunted and the companions are falling to their deaths, what do you think might happen next?  Find your seats quickly! The next act is about to begin!

OOC: So that was a long time in coming. Thanks for your patience.  Chapter 1 is now over and really it should have been more of a Prologue 1, but that's ok. Chapter 2 will begin as the characters' fall ends and they awake (assuming they do!)  You all gain 4 XP for surviving this world-changing encounter. That may put a few of you half-way toward levelling. Well done, good role-playing, and I'm eager to get this story rolling forward again!  We'll continue in the Chapter 2 thread!