"Better to have someone to fight than being stuck in this hollow of a village!" Roared the huge half-orc, known by his tribe, his enemies, and even a dwarf as Korak, Drainer of Tankards, Consumer of Cheeses and awe-insiring Smasher of Doors.

The Usher whispers: Everyone please roll for initiative! (1d6 + Dex bonus)

The sky was clouded over and seemed to be growing darker. The clouds were dropping and with them the threat of rain. The season was that wonderful time between the ending of summer and the beginning of autumn when the daytime temperatures no longer had the sweat-inducing heat, but the nights were still warm and breeze-less. As if in response to the fierce Korak's declaration, a peal of thunder boomed in the distance. Following nature's signature a gust of wind came rushing from the northwest carrying with it the wafts of smoke from the burned and ruined village. There were other smells in that wind, but the folks sitting around the half-orc were doing their best not to think of them.

Bodric was about to take his last bite of the stale biscuit he had been, like the others, trying to choke down without any appetite, when he froze and cocked his head as if listening. He reached a gnarled hand down and held it flat against the earth. He remained in that position for just a moment before his eyes flew open, wide and alert. Dropping his last bite he stood to his feet and hefted his axe.

The others, lost in their own thoughts and still partially in shock from seeing the burned carnage that used to be their home village, were instantly alerted to the dwarf's sudden movement.  Each, in their own way, quickly readied themselves, likely out of instinct for it was done without thought. Among them were Maksim Munzuk, one of Gilgamar's few resident gnomes, the Autumn Cleric Durgon, also of the now ruined village, and Lady Agelia Redstart, the priestess of Luno travelling on a pilgrimage of devotion.

It was only a few moments later that the others heard what the dwarf had somehow felt through the ground, the sound of rapid hoofbeats coming their direction! Rounding a corner of the road on the edge of town to the north of the ruined Inn came charging a single rider. The horse was dark of color and slick with the shimmer of sweat. Its rider seemed to be dressed in dark earth tones and had a large axe in one hand, held low to one side.

The Usher explains: The rider is about a hundred yards away riding hard in your direction... There is not much cover, the village has been smashed and burned. You are standing at the base of a large maple tree that had been growing next to the Inn, it is mostly burned as well, in fact it is still smoldering. There are a few other partly burned trees along the street and some various rubble left from burned out buildings. Check the Game Map.

Please make a Wisdom check for me as well. (1d20 + Wis bonus)

And... what is your pleasure?
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 04:57, Mon 30 Sept 2013.

Durgon saw the dwarfs actions and alerted immediately. He still felt the anger burning inside him for the sights he has seen. He saw the rider heading towards his group, "Lady Autumn be praised, be it friend or foe anything is welcome now!" he raised his shield and his mace and prepared for battle in case diplomacy failed.

01:32, Today: Durgon rolled 13 using 1d20+1 with rolls of 12. Wisdom Check.
01:32, Today: Durgon rolled 6 using 1d6 with rolls of 6. Initiative.

This message was last edited by the player at 05:38, Mon 30 Sept 2013.

Sensing Bodric's movements more than seeing them, Maksim turned and leveled his bow at the charging rider. Holding his aim and following the approach Maksim, calls over to Bodricand the others, "I have a shot, do I take it?"

---

09:31, Today: Maksim Munzuk rolled 6 using 1d6+2 with rolls of 4. initiative.
09:31, Today: Maksim Munzuk rolled 16 using 1d20+1 with rolls of 15. wisdom check.

At the sight of the oncoming rider, Bodric dropped his war axe to the ground and switched to his throwing axe. The rider would have to get much closer before he would let fly, but he was ready. His fingers found their spots on the smooth, gently curving and weighted handle. He held it just as he had been taught by the Training masters at the Arena, a proven technique that had improved his throws significantly, even if it differed slightly from the traditional dwarven style. He planted his feet firmly into the earth, becoming almost an extension of it, as only a dwarf is able to do. His mind though, was having difficulty putting together any kind of strategy.

OOC:
_{Bodric Battlebelly rolled 4 using 1d6+1 ((3)). Initiative.
Bodric Battlebelly rolled 2 using 1d20+1 ((1)). Wisdom.}

The Usher murmurs: There are a few loose ends at the beginning of this play. This may help tie them together... no one likes a sloppy beginning.

As the travel weary and emotionally exhausted party sprang to their feet to face the approaching horseman, they glanced about for the other search party that had not yet returned. It had been made up of Chase, son of the Golden Toad's proprietor, Dennid and the dwarf Ferston, the bard Wexenwendle and they presumed Tuar, the dark-clad wizardling who had been last seen mourning at the threshold of his mother's home. Bodric risked a nervous piercing whistle from the gap of his missing front tooth, but got no response. They had little time to wonder about it though for the rider was fast approaching.

OOC:
This is just a narrative fill-in... Time has not advanced and I'll wait a little longer for the others to post their initiative rolls before anything "happens".

Korak, weary, his expression of time and space haulting for a bit, makes out the hazy horseman and he looks up in a confused manner.

Korak rolled 1 using 1d20 ((1)). <-- Ha! Even Bodric beat that! Ok, so only by one...)


[Private to Korak: You can't tell anything more than what I've described and you think the rider is a dire threat!]

The Usher chides: tsk... tsk... You botched that one my friend, try 1d6+DexMod for Initiative, then stop checking out the pixie chick in the front row, get back in your seat and pay attention to the play... ;-)
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:14, Tue 01 Oct 2013.

The clouds which had been dropping in elevation and growing in both volume and darkness seemed to accellerate in both. A breeze came up from behind the rider coming at them, which was not unusual for this time of the year, but the intensity of the initial gust rocked the party back a little. Several burned timbers crashed downward within their charred husks where houses and buildings used to be. The sickening smell of burnt flesh and hair became strong as the wind whipped up the embers in the ruined village of Gilgamar.

OOC: I can't hold back the storm forever! ;-) I need initiative from Agelia and Korak so I can move the story forward. Also Ms. Redstart I'd like a Wisdoooom check if you choose to check out the rider. If I don't get them by tomorrow night, I'll  roll for ya and then we can (or perhaps not) brace ourselves for impact...

Agelia stares intently at the rider, trying to figure it out.  The stench and sudden change in conditions making things somewhat less favourable for the priestess' senses and decision-making processes...but she nonetheless refrains from reaching for her weapons, for now.

She wrinkles the corner of her mouth, and sniffs.

03:10, Today: Agelia Redstart rolled 3 using 1d6-1 with rolls of 4. Agelia Initiative.

03:12, Today: Agelia Redstart rolled 20 using 1d20+2 with rolls of 18. Agelia Wisdom Check.

The grip of the axe feels good, its leather a reminder of the wondrous smell of iron and blood.

OOC: Korak rolled 5 using 1d6 ((5)).

The sound of the first thunderbolt hitting not far away ripped through the smoldering ruins of Gilgamar. The companions were at the ready and a dark clothed rider raced toward them as if fleeing from the coming storm. The rider carried a large bearded axe, almost as big as the tribal relic carried by Korak. The beast under the rider was flecked with sweat, its legs churning toward the survivors.

OOC:
Initiative Order:

• Durgon
• Maksim
• Korak
• Bodric
• Rider
• Agelia

You may yell, holler, speak, etc. anytime, but actions are restricted to your turn. And Durgon, your're up!

Various PM's

[Private to Agelia Redstart: Nice Roll! So you can tell that the earth tones of the rider's clothing is actually mud or dirt and possibly blood. Beneath that you can see he is wearing a deep burgundy cloak and chainmail armor. The horse looks like it's at the point of exhaustion and is covered in mud and blood as well. The axe the rider is carrying is bloody as well. Also... he looks as if he is running from something, not necessarily attacking you. You also smell rain and have the feeling the coming storm is not quite natural.]

[Private to Durgon: Durgon, you have the feeling that the coming storm is not of natural origen. The rider coming towards you is covered in mud and blood as is his horse. Your holy symbol has grown warm against your skin.]

[Private to Maksim Munzuk: Maksim, you can see that the rider is covered in mud and blood as is his horse. He (you can tell it's a male) is riding hard toward your location, but you cannot ascertain his intent at this point.]

Bodric, feet set, swayed back and forth, waiting for the rider to get within range of his throwing axe. "Take'im down Maksim! Let fly!" Bodric yelled to his friend the gnome. He, like the giant half-orc beside him, was ready to exact some revenge for his ruined hometown.

"Brother of the Axe!" Korak says lifting his weapon. "State your will or DIE!"

Durgon looked at the rider the best he could.  He suddenly had a feeling this rider may be running from something else. One rider after all did not cause this damage before him he thought.  He saw the storm in the distance and yelled to the rider "Who are you and what do you want? Speak now or I will attack!" he said as he pulled his mace back ready to swing if the rider showed any aggression.

Agelia opens her mouth to speak several times, but Durgon's words match the ones she wishes to speak enough that she merely keeps quiet.  Well, for now.

The rider did not slow, he got to within sixty yards, then fifty, then forty, continuing to kick the horse to move faster, but the horse had nothing left to give.

"Flee! Flee!" he shouted in a raspy voice. "Flee for your lives! You will all die!"

He was now close enough for everyone to see he was covered in mud and was bleeding from several nasty-looking wounds. It looked like he still had bits of chainmail on as well as a tattered burgundy cloak. The horse as well had been wounded. There was bloody foam coming from its nostrils and sweaty lather covered its front end and back legs. From somewhere behind the rider came a low rumbling sound as of thunder but growing instead of fading.

OOC: Round 2, starts with you Durgon!

Maksim heard his friend's words to fire on the rider but something stayed his hand. Then hearing the rider's words the gnome looked to the apparent storm, "Thunder didn't cause those injuries... RIDER! WHAT COMES?"

---

OOC: Maksim holds his shot for whatever is chasing the rider trusting his friends to deal with the rider if he proves a threat.

"Flee? flee to where? From the looks of it you have been fleeing yet it still comes." Durgon yelled at the rider. "What is this unnatural thing that gives chase perhaps the lot of us can help stop it?"

As the rider closed to within axe-throwing distance, the rider's horse, which had obviously borne him as best as it was able, faltered and it's front legs wobbled and could no longer keep up. The creature gave one last valiant effort to stay afoot, but alas, it was spent and beyond. It had tried as valiantly as it had been able and now it fell with an equine scream of frustration at having failed its master and also... it was a whine of terror.

The rider tried to shift his weight backwards and support the faltering horse's head. It was not enough though and the horse went down in the narrow road that made its way as the main avenue through the small town of Gilgamar. The rider, perhaps prepared for this eventuality only not expecting it yet, tried to roll clear of the horse. The road would not allow it and he slid on his chest and dented helm to within ten yards of the party. Somehow he'd kept hold of the bearded axe and slowly brought himself to his feet. He did not look like he was in any better condition than his horse. Without a word he turned to the downed animal and with a mighty swing of his axe, ended the animal's misery. When he turned back to the party there were streaks running down his cheeks through the mud.

"May my horse's blood buy us a few more minutes of life," he declared, "We must try to find a place to make a final stand! Quickly now, make haste!" The rider, terribly worse for wear, began running in the direction he'd been previously traveling, ignoring the threats of Korak, Bodric, Maksim and Durgon. He went right past Agelia, running as fast as his broken body could carry him and urging her with his eyes to follow as best as she was able.

Then the crashing of trees and the building, oncoming rumble reached its crescendo as two enormous creatures burst forth into view at the end of the road leading into the ruined village.  [To Be Continued]

OOC: sorry gang, I'm falling asleep and wrote the same words about six different ways in that last paragaph and can't do it. I'll post tomorrow night after my 2nd day of class.

[Private to Agelia Redstart: Your holy symbol just went from warm to hot as the creatures left the cover of the forest and began running towards you!]

[Private to Durgon: Your holy symbol just went from warm to hot as the creatures left the cover of the forest and began running towards you!]

"There is something unnatural about them!" Durgon yelled to the others.  "The Lady Autumn has laid upon my heart a warning of great importance! Be wary of these two." Durgon raised his equipment and tried to get a better idea of what the creatures may be as he began to prepare for a clash.

[...Continued.]

The Usher: There are stories told around the fire at night to frighten the children or rookie recruits. They tell of nightmarish creatures, aberrations with extra limbs or deadly abilities. The reason these stories are scary is due more to the atmosphere and skill of the storyteller than from much truth of such beasts truly existing. The beasts that stepped forth on the far north end of the small isolated town of Gilgamar were stepping right out of a nightmare into the companions' reality...

Upon finding themselves free of the trees, the two beasts stopped for a moment. This gave the companions a good look at them and set their hearts racing as frantically as anything they'd ever experienced before. Two or three more lightning strikes shattered the air around the ruined town, but the rag-tag adventurers likely did not even notice, so riveted was there gaze upon the beasts.

As of something from their worst nightmares, the beasts snorted and sniffed. Both stood taller than a Gilgamar house and both were the color of terror. The one on the left pawed the ground with a sharp hoof, sending massive chunks of earth flying in the air above it. It had the body of a boar but its head was massively deformed. Its mouth was shaped more like that of a crocodile, although it still had arm-length tusks and a blunt boar-like snout. On its head were two glowing red orbs, narrowly set eyes. It was a collection of rage and teeth which knew nothing resembling fear or self-preservation.

The other creature was perhaps even more frightening. It seemed to be dog-like only its feet were clawed more like those of a cat. It had two heads which slavered, drooled and snapped. One of them dropped to sniff the ground, obviously on the trail of the rider and his horse. The tail of the beast was perhaps two wagon-lengths long and raised itself up like a striking snake for it truly had the head of a serpent upon its end. A long forked tongue shot out and in, tasting and testing the air.

The rider was now shouting something to the others, but he could not tell if they could hear or not. For the most part though the companions were emotionally drained and where their senses should have been screaming at them to flee or shutting them down out of self-preservation, they were instead just numb.

OOC: So yes, pretty freaky and intimidating. You have no doubt that the rider was doing the right thing by fleeing these suckers. I'm going to roll saving throws for you all in the interest of time. Flame me if that doesn't work for you and I'll let you do your own next time. ;-)

Save -vs- Wave of Fear (Paralysis).
The Usher, on behalf of Bodric Battlebelly, rolled 18 using 1d20 with rolls of 18.
The Usher, on behalf of Korak, rolled 16 using 1d20 with rolls of 16.
The Usher, on behalf of Durgon, rolled 14 using 1d20 with rolls of 14.
The Usher, on behalf of Agelia Redstart, rolled 13 using 1d20 with rolls of 13.
The Usher, on behalf of Maksim Munzuk, rolled 19 using 1d20 with rolls of 19.

Wow, perhaps you guys should always have me roll! Only Agelia is paralyzed and she only missed it by one!

PM's to follow...

[Private to Durgon: Not "unnatural" but rather "supernatural"!  Your symbol is hot and you can feel the evil spread from the creatures like a wave towards you. Horrible as they are though, there's something even more evil in the vicinity. Your senses toward that kind of thing are bolstered by your symbol. If this has ever happened before to your character, please narrate it sometime in the upcoming story, it doesn't have to be right away, perhaps if Durgon survives he could tell it around a campfire... ;-)]

[Private to Agelia Redstart: These things are pure evil and it has paralyzed you. Please narrate if anything like this has happened to your character before. You're basically unable to function for three turns... You may attempt another saving throw each round (TN14) to break out of the fear...]

[Private to Korak: So this is pretty scary stuff. Please narrate if Korak has ever experienced anything like this. Also, you notice Agelia has gone pale and isn't blinking.]

[Private to Maksim Munzuk: So this is pretty scary stuff. Please narrate if Maksim has ever experienced anything like this. Also, you notice Agelia has gone pale and isn't blinking.  You know of a place near the southwest end of town where you all might hide in the rocks, at least for a while... that is, if you can get there!]

"Unnatural? You gotta be kidding me. Why they look downright friendly..." Bodric, ever the optimist was just as surprised as the others and felt the unwelcome prickles of fear down his back. As he watched the aberrations before him, one of the dog looking heads lowered down enough to scoop up the body of one of the slain villagers and begin crunching on it. The dwarf gasped in shock and disgust, suddenly realizing that these creatures must have been what attacked Gilgamar.

Bodric looked around him. The forest obviously was no cover, they needed good solid earth or stone for a barrier. He wracked his brains trying to remember a spot in the area to fall back to, but nothing came to mind.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:38, Wed 09 Oct 2013.

Durgon felt the heat from his the acorn he wore around his neck.  "What? Can it be? My mother told me of this happening before." He shifted his gaze toward the symbol almost in disbelief. "My mother said sometimes the Lady's Acorn would put off heat when something supernatural was nearby." He looked at Bodric. "Not unnatural, SUPERNATURAL!" he yelled to the group.

Maksim's bow lowered as the aberrations came into view. At his companion's words the gnome looked around at the group and then tried to get everyone out of harm's way. "Those are even older than your Lady Acorn, if the tales I heard are true! But not here, we have to get to ground. There are some rocks to the southwest of town that we hold up."

Looking again at Anelia Maksim saw she wasn't able to mentally deal with creatures. Grabing Korak's attention, "Big Guy, grab her, she's no good on her own right now." Then Maksim turns and hurries off to the corner of town, "I got the lead, keep up!"

The rider changed his heading a bit at Maksim's suggestion to head for the rocks. He was limping but still moving quickly ahead of the others who were still trying to shake off the cobwebs and react to the situation. "Your only chance is to outrun them and hide. They've wiped out entire towns, many larger than Gilgamar. I hope your hiding spot is adequate good gnome!" he hollered back at the companions as he run-stumbled to the southeast.

Bodric knew vaguely of the rocks Maksim was talking about although he'd never climbed around on them himself, he had been too busy rotting himself in a bottle of spirits to accomplish anything useful like that.

"Go Maksim! We're right behind ya!" he said to his friend. "Come on Princess! Ye'll get yer fight soon enough!" he then said to the half-orc, Korak.

He began stumping after the rider as quickly as his short dwarven legs and broad belly would allow.

"Run away like fools?" Korak roars his axe in hand ready for a fight, he looks to the distance, trying to see if truly a tactful retreat is called for.

Korak rolled 11 using 1d20 ((11)).
This message was last edited by the player at 23:47, Thu 10 Oct 2013.

Durgon decides that trying to fight them in the open is useless, perhaps even if they are found in the rocks it may give them a much needed advantage. "Too the rocks!" he said as he started to follow.

The dwarf felt, or perhaps anticipated, the hesitation on the part of the large half-orc. There was a part of himself that felt guilty about fleeing. Had someone asked just moments ago if retreat from the very creatures that had wiped out Gilgamar could ever be a possibility, Bodric would have laughed them to scorn. However, like most ignorant or even innocent future speculation, reality had turned a seeming absolute on its ear. Now, having discovered the source of Gilgamar's destruction, falling back to a position of fortification, not only made sense, but became the default for any chance of survival.

"Come Korak! Quickly! We be standin' little chance here in the open against one of those hell-spawn, let alone two! The fool be he who has a chance to multiply his might and chooses not to..." the irony of such a phrase coming from the mouth of the likes of Bodric was not lost on anyone in the group, save perhaps the rider who was already many strides ahead of them all. "Grab the lass, please, ye be the only one that can!"

The Usher: I might just add that for perhaps the first time in years, Bodric makes some sense! Korak, you see just over the top of the remaining half-burnt trees to the southwest a rocky landmark, not tall, but perhaps better cover than... well, nothing. Your roll is good enough to win you the narration of the rocky location and what sort of protection it may offer as well as anything else about it that would make the mighty Korak consider falling back! See the game map, it might help.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:04, Fri 11 Oct 2013.

The second of the dog-ish monstrosity's heads suddenly sniffed the air as the first lifted from the ground and looked in the direction of Gilgamar's destroyed Inn. It let out an otherworldly howl that sent chills through to the survivors' bones. The warthog gave a snort and fixed its beady read eyes in the same direction as well, tensing its legs as if to spring into a charge. The snake-head on the tail of the first creature hissed and bobbed.

From another part of the ruined village, eastward of the party, came a scream of mixed frustration, anger and psychotic despair. The screamer was out of direct sight of the party, but had obviously seen the appearance of the destroying malefactors on the northern fringe of the town.

At the sound of the unnerving wailing cry, All four heads of the two aberrations snapped up and looked toward the east of the party. The doglike heads had their ears perked up, the warthog grunted a deep and horrific sound and the snake headed tail undulated back and forth, tounge-tasting the air.

The Usher explains: More dramatic fill-in. I would hate for anyone to think we were stalled... *grin* Are you all retreating or making a stand? The length of a round is variable by the way to allow for... stuff to happen. Don't get too caught up on whose turn it is, at least until whatever happens here develops a little more, then we'll slow it down just a bit. The beasties ain't gonna just stand there all day however, just sayin'.

The Usher murmurs: A bit more from the theatrical department...

Maksim Munzuk wasted little time in his determination that the large rocks on the edge of the village would offer significantly more cover than the burned-out Inn and charred tree stumps. He was familiar with the area, being a local, and had a good feel for the terrain. With the speed and agility of his race he sped toward the southeast portion of town, passing by the bloodied rider and leading the way confidently for the others to follow.

Bodric, also a long-time native to Gilgamar made the same decision. He paused momentarily to make sure Korak was able to carry Ms. Redstart before racing after Maksim toward the rocks. He had returned his throwing axe to its leather loop and had his battered battle axe again in hand.

Durgon, likewise, was of the same mind and began to fall back toward the rocks. He seemed to clutch from time to time at his chest, but the others had no idea why or what the significance of the action was. They hoped he was not having some sort of heart attack...

The dying horse's body quiverred a little from some stray nerve signal. From the other end of the ruined village, the abberations seemed to have taken notice of the smell of blood and ignored the owner of the scream to the east. They began advancing slowly at first and then building speed toward the bleeding horse corpse.

OOC: There they come! You religious types may be whispering some prayers at this point! ;-)

Start Round 4 - Agelia please save vs Paralysis...(1d20 + CON Mod -vs- 14)
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:17, Mon 14 Oct 2013.

Agelia's initial reaction to the monstrosities was merely an awkward, terrified choking noise, and a nervous system response.  She froze in place.  The only other time she felt so helpless was when she read a tome of lore as a part of her priestly training, but the tome did not make her feel like a little bird in the middle of a den of hungry wolves...

The din and sound of voices - one in particular being that of Bodric Battlebelly, insisting that the mighty half-orc named Korak carry her - was interrupted by wailing.  No miracle would see this little bird run out of the den, but the talons of a companion would.

01:54, Mon 14 Oct 2013: Agelia Redstart rolled 4 using 1d20-1 ((5)).

02:19, Mon 14 Oct 2013: Agelia Redstart rolled 14 using 1d20+2 ((12)).  This one's to see if Agelia can recall anything from the aforementioned tome about these creatures!

The Usher invites: Ms. Redstart, please edit any of the following to fit your style and character. Also use it as a springboard for narrating what you know of the creatures, their abilities and anything else you feel creative about. This should give you something to do until you can "Get a Grip"...

Of the many subjects she had spent her time studying during her training, and even afterwards on her own, there were a few topics that seemed to stand out. These topics piqued her interest for two reasons. Primarily they were of interest because of the small amount of lore available, or at least conveniently available. If one wanted to expand her knowledge in one of these areas, she would have to expend some real mental elbow grease as well as travel, treasure and time. Secondly, these topics tended to involve substantial amounts of power... powerful beings like Gods and their underlings, powerful artifacts capable of altering (or mending) reality, and powerful abilities like raising the dead or manipulating time.

Agelia was very young, and like many young acolytes in the faith, she was drawn to these topics partially because they were forbidden to the inexperienced. There was a significant risk of danger when meddling with such forces and there were certainly not a few priests and priestesses who had been led down dark and twisted paths (or off metaphorical cliffs) from their foolish delving of the subjects. Perhaps it was her own folly at having cracked open forbidden tomes that led to the unfortunate condition she found herself in now...

On a dark night toward the end of her formal training, Agelia and a couple of other priestesses had lit a candle in a drafty upper room of a rural observatory and library. The cold stone walls seemed to suck away both the light from their candle and the warmth from their skin. Under her cloak, Agelia had a small, dusty and very old book which was bound in some kind of dark leather and buckled for safety. It could only be opened with a proper holy symbol of high enough rank. On a dare, she'd swiped the amulet from their teacher.

They sat huddled together around a thick candle which seemed to smoke and run more than give off light or heat while they cracked open the book and unveiled its secrets... It was written by the hand of Tyrellin the Wise, an icon of their order and was probably one of his earlier works. As they turned the pages, the coldness of the tower grew colder still and the darkness drew tighter in around them. Finally, one of the acolytes gave a slight choking shriek, her fear having gotten the better of her. She accidentally kicked over the candle and plunged the room into darkness. Amid the frightened scufflings and murmurings of the young priestesses there was a sound as of someone laughing. It grew in volume until the terrified shrieks of the women drowned it out.

A torch flared in an opened door as their priestess superior marched into the tower room with two eunuch martial-monks who bore their simple, but deadly weapons. They were her bodyguards, her protectors. Her grimace was evidence of her disappointment, but somewhere behind the gruff facade was a hint of... fear. The young priestesses, including Agelia, were reprimanded and given extra chores for a week as punishment for their indiscretion, but the sound of that laugh stayed with young Agelia even to this day.

The picture which had been drawn on the page they were reading before the candle got kicked over was of an Ulir, a renegade Godling, and his... pets, evil aberrations bred for terrorizing mortals. If the hand-drawn depiction had not been frightening enough for the young priestess, having two of those creatures manifest in an obscure village was enough to send her over the edge. Which it had done to the point where she was seemingly paralyzed by her fear of the not-so-unknown...

Durgon headed for the rocks so they could make a stand.  Or so he hoped.  The symbol he bore would not stop heating and almost vibrating his chest. As he ran toward the rocks he grasped the symbol and prayed out loud. "Lady of the Autumn, this acorn is a symbol of life.  I however fear that the life of my companions and myself is in grave danger.  Help us o lady, help us figure a way to defeat these creatures that are defiling your world."

Durgon, brave and devoted cleric of the goddess of the harvest, she who paints the leaves and frosts the fields - Her Ladyship of Autumn, raced with weapon in hand toward the broken rocks near the edge of the ruined village. His prayer, spoken sincerely and from the heart, born of desperation and hope flew heavenward on wings faster than the silver beams of a harvest moon. Durgon did not see a vision for his eyes were fixed on the presumed safety of the rocks. He did not hear a voice for his ears strained to hear the sounds of his panting companions running with him. Even so, he did receive an answer to his plea of faith.

In his hand, the acorn flared briefly with a light the color of an autumn sunset. It took Durgon by surprise as it leaked between his fingers. The surge was brief, but in that instant, much was spoken to his mind and heart.

[Private to Durgon: This is the wonderful feeling that seemed to fill Durgon's soul:
"Thou shalt not defeat the beasts of the Ulir this day. Thou and thy companions doth be too weak, but have patience for I have heard thy plea and know that which transpireth soon. Defend thy new found companions, especially the daughter of Taiiemnian, the mysterious. They know me not, but thy faith shalt touch them if thou art strong.]

As Durgon reached the rocks just behind Maksim who paused to wait for the others to catch up, he noticed the rider had fallen a bit behind, his limp having gotten worse and his face was even more pale. He had lifted his left hand near to his face and was yelling at the back of his fingers. This seemed indeed odd behavior, especially considering what was on the other end of the village...

Korak continues to run, if not fighting, he thought, carrying a woman to safety was always a good substitute. Satisfied with this, his axe still gave him an itch.

Durgon looked at the rider as it seemed as if he may be talking to someone or something that was not there. "Get over here now! We cannot defeat these creatures today we must get away." he yelled at the stranger trying to get his attention.

Bodric halted a bit as Durgon pointed and motioned towards the rocks. Not far from him was the bloodied rider who seemed to be faltering. The dwarf had no idea what the man had been through in the last few days, but knew he must be on the verge of collapse. He rushed to the man's aid and threw a strong, thick arm around the man's waist, insistently urging him towards cover.

The man's face had lost color and there was a sheen of cold sweat under his eyes and on his temples. Every once in a while he would raise the back of his left hand and yell at it, as if trying to convey a message to someone. He wasn't making much sense to the dwarf.

"He's lost it!" Bodric huffed to himself. Then looking at the blood on the ground with each footstep he added, "with all that blood lost, ain't no wonder he's lost his mind too." He had seen similar things from warriors of many races when they had been wounded in battle. He thought he'd once heard it called 'shock' but he had no idea what that meant, he only knew that when one's body started leaking severely, one began behaving strangely...

With the help of Durgon, Bodric pulled the rider into the voids in the giant boulders. There weren't caves exactly, but very similar as chuncks of stone and earth had at some point in the past been pushed up together leaving time to erode back out the spaces in between. Nobody knew how the formations came to be, but they were a not uncommon feature of the geology of the area around Gilgamar.  Once the man was deep into the dark passageways, Bodric returned to assist Korak with Agelia who was struggling a bit against unseen bonds... still in 'shock' herself although the dwarf did not believe she'd been wounded.



"What in the Burning Blazes makes ye say that??? Fine then, we'll hole up here and beat'em tomorrow! And unless Maksim's gotta way outa here he ain't told us about, I'd say we ain't goin' nowheres." He hefted his axe again and moved to one of the many openings in the rocks between those deeper inside and the destroyed village, putting himself as a barrier the creatures had to get through to harm his companions. Not that a single dwarf with a big belly and second-hand armor and weapons was going to slow them down much... But then he saw the large half-orc positioning himself similarly and smiled, thinking about their escape from the cellar and what Korak's heirloom axe might do to one of these hell-spawn they faced!

The two other-worldly creatures then leapt in the direction of the Inn and the fleeing companions. It was chilling to watch how quickly they covered the distance. The dog-headed creature skidded to a halt at the dead horse, both heads sniffing the blooded and pausing to take a few massive bites out of the still-warm flesh. The pig-like creature thundered on to the Inn but then stopped and rummaged a bit in the wreckage, using its strong snout to root around and its long alligator like maw to chomp down stale loaves of bread and crack open any remaining barrels of ale, which it consumed barrel and all.

This pause was fortunate for the companions as it gave them the vital moments they needed to finish their flight to the rocks, south-west of the Inn. The break was not long, for even though their motives were driven by their stomachs like the creatures of this world, they posessed another hunger and that was for killing. The rider's bloody footprints would have led them straight to the rocks and so their escape was betrayed.  The two creatures heads snapped up as they looked toward the direction the party took to flee.

----

At the rocks, Korak Door-breaker and Bodric Battlebelly stood, mentally preparing themselves for the coming battle with creatures a hundred times stronger, faster and more vicous than anything they'd ever faced before. Again the aberrations turned to advance on the party who sought refuge amongst the ancient stones. Behind them Maksim the Gnome and Durgon, devout of the Lady prepared their aid as best they could, knowing time was running out. Deeper in the spaces lie the young priestess Agelia and the bloodied and barely breathing rider.

Begin Round 6. Agelia, please make your save and the rest of you please narrate your actions, if any.  The abberations will be upon the rocks at the end of this round. They know where you are, so it's not like you might surprise them, although they don't know where in the rocks you are, so some solid tactics might give you a few advantages. If any of you plan any ranged attacks, this would be the time...

The Usher adds: Yes, prayers from foxholes are usually fairly potent... just sayin'.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:21, Sat 19 Oct 2013.

The sky grew steadily darker and the peals of thunder increased so much that it was almost easier to count the moments between lighting strikes than to count the strikes themselves. Large and splashy raindrops fell to the earth, causing small puffs of dust at first and then everything was slick and muddy.

Please make a Wisdom check for me. (1d20 + WIS modifier). This is in addition to any other actions you may choose to take this round.

As Agelia finds herself struggling to regain control of herself, her mind wanders.  Those things remind me of something...

Indeed, she recalls three other priestesses: Bae, Lynette, and Orbri.  One night, close to their swearing-in as priestesses of Taiiemnian, the four crept into a library-observatory under cover of darkness.  Agelia carried a tome under her cloak, the acquisition of which required her to make various cat noises to lure its guardian away long enough for her to grab it and leave.  Wrapped around her left arm was the chain that held the holy symbol of Varm, the air-headed scholar who taught the initiates languages other than Common.

According to Orbri, the resident "bad girl" of the four, and the entire class of initiates, the tome that she talked Agelia into getting was magical.  Like many magical tomes, it had a lock on it.  This was no conventional lock, like one might see on a spellbook, but one that required something a little bit more than a finger-sized metal implement to open... And hapless Varm's holy symbol was the best, hand-sized implement to use!  Of course, Agelia could have cared less about any of this, she just did what Orbri asked her to because of the rush it gave her, and because she was in an exceptionally good mood when she was asked.

Once the four were gathered and had "sufficient" illumination - well, as best the terrible candle Lynette provided would give - they opened the book.  Well, Orbri opened the book; Agelia set them in front of her, and handed her Varm's symbol like it was plagued.  Without a noise, the tome opened when Orbri pressed the symbol to the corresponding opening on it.

Some mess about demons, Agelia thought, rolling her eyes as she glossed over the Table of Contents.  The tome was written by one Tyrellin the Wise, a renowned scholar, and a worshipper of Taiiemnian when he was alive.  There were several chapters on the Lower Planes, several more on their denizens (with adorable scribblings, no doubt provided by people who were either drawing blind or were traumatised by these creatures), and so on, and so forth...

Despite her boredom, Agelia found herself becoming increasingly unsettled by things, and increasingly cold... She also noticed that Lynette was stifling far too many sneezes, a nervous reflex; what was more, Bae would periodically look over her shoulder, as if she'd heard something... Only Orbri seemed steady, but still just as cold as Agelia must have felt.  Well, at least until Bae let out a very awkward sound, a mix between gagging and a cry of terror.  Then, everybody reacted, even Orbri, crying out.  In a panic, Bae jerked and kicked the candle out, plunging the room into darkness.  This only made things worse.

Not as bad as they were, now, but still pretty bad... Agelia could remember hearing laughter, drowned out as it was by the terrified cries, and artful strings of profanity from Bae.  She could also remember the doors flying open, and Varm, the High Priestess, and her bodyguards storming into the room, stern, disapproving, and...fearful?  Agelia was shoved out of the way by the High Priestess, the tome shut and collected by her, symbol returned to a very hurt-looking Varm, and...a very long reprimand that was pretty intimidating, but empty except for the additional week's worth of chores.

Returning to the present time, Agelia remembered, too, the creatures!  They were on the page that she and her acquaintances were on, before Bae had her fit of terror and kicked the lights out.  There were so many names for the creatures: Names that all of the "common" races knew them by; names that treants knew them by; names that extinct civilisations knew them by...there were even names for certain individuals!  If only she could remember at least one of the names!

As she dwelt on the past, Agelia slowly felt function returning to herself.  With a jerk of her right arm and a kick of her legs, she was back!


Here's to hoping I did that right!

Rolls~

09:27, Today: Agelia Redstart rolled 8 using 1d20+2 with rolls of 6. Agelia Wisdom Check.

01:22, Today: Agelia Redstart rolled 17 using 1d20-1 with rolls of 18. Saving Throw versus Paralysis.

The Usher nods approvingly: My friends you have just seen the application of creativity in taking the cue from the stage help and turning it into something wonderful. Nice bit of performance there Agelia.

The Usher hands her a ticket for a "Free Pass". (Redeemable for 'passing' on a future roll of your choosing.)

Agelia found herself lying on the ground next to the bloody and shaking rider who had pushed his horse to collapse trying to escape the aberrations which seemed to appear with the sudden storm. A flash of lightning revealed she was in a space between very large stones and there was rain beginning to run down them as the storm intensified. In the light of another flash she saw two of her new companions not far away. Maksim the gnome and the Autumn Cleric Durgon faced toward the openings of the rock walls with weapons drawn. In front of them, near where the entrance to the maze of random spaces created by gigantic stones pushed up together, she thought she could make out the tall and massive half-orc, Korak, and the short but still rather massive around the middle, Bodric the dwarf, blocking the way.

The thunder blasts were deafening. Bodric shouted something to the others but she could not hear it. Her holy symbol burned with heat against her skin. The dying rider moaned on the ground near her feet. Then there arose another hideous scream from somewhere in the storm.

She remembered the demonic creatures then and a shudder passed through her. She realized she had managed to shake off the effects of their terrifying aura, but she still  found herself shivering a bit from the aftermath of such fear. Suddenly a name popped into her mind! It was the name of the boar-like creature with the alligator maw.  It was known among the ancients as the Nothalotch, one of the Seven Beasts of Ghuaarn, and it was much more frightening in real life than it had been drawn by the hand of Tyrellin the Wise.

[Private to Agelia Redstart: You sense another entity, something darker even than the aberrations making their way towards the stones you are hiding in.]

After reaching the rocks and having everyone accounted for Durgon grasps his holy symbol gives thanks and prays for help and or enlightenment.  Durgon also looks at the bleeding rider as his blood now washes away with the pouring rain and wonders out loud, "I have only one cure spell, I wanted to save for one of us but perhaps this man needs it more?" as he ducks from a particularity loud thunderclap.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:47, Mon 21 Oct 2013.

"Maksim!" Hollered the dwarf back into the rocks. He tried to make his voice heard over the thunder and the blowing wind that had suddenly come up. "We better be fallin' back! How deep do these cracks be going? WE GOT BEASTIES COMIN'!!!" It was true, the aberrations had finished their snack on the horse and left-overs from the kitchen of the Golden Toad Inn and now craved living flesh, for it was the only thing that would take the edge off their eternal hunger.

Bodric readied his throwing axe, knowing he'd only get one chance.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:20, Wed 23 Oct 2013.

Barely making out Bodric's shout Maksim scurried up a side rock passage, Korak blocking the direct passage. Poking his head out the gnome caught sight of the aberrant beasts, his breath leaving him. Quickly he shot off one of his arrows knowing it would do little against such beasts. Eyeing the axe in Bodric's hand he shouted to the dwarf, "Throw and go as deep as you can!" and slips back down as deep into the pile of rocks as he can.

---

OOC:

15:52, Today: Maksim Munzuk rolled 9 using 1d20+1 with rolls of 8. wisdom check.
15:52, Today: Maksim Munzuk rolled 8 using 1d6+2 with rolls of 6. arrow damage. right.
15:52, Today: Maksim Munzuk rolled 12 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 9. arrow at the aberrations.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:29, Wed 23 Oct 2013.

Korak looks to the beasts, some glowering within him, a deep seated panic and rage.

OOC: Projectile weapons bah, why not throw a whole barbarian at the things. Input anyone?

If a minstrel were ever to put to tune the feelings of a rat trapped in a shallow hole in the wall by a couple of starving tom-cats, the song might describe the feelings of the companions at that time. The storm outside was intense, as if the elements were fighting, only they were on their own side... In the intermittent gloom of the hollow in the rocks Durgon could see the sheen of sweat on the rider's face. He had to physically place a hand upon the man to determine if he still breathed, which he did, only barely, and he was cool to the touch. Only Korak, the half-wild, half-civilized, half... orc, was composed in this manifestation of nightmare. His ancestral axe did not falter and his knees did not shake. As the beasts closed, Korak's eyes narrowed. Finally, with the help of her Diety, Agelia seemed to have shaken off the sense of futility and fear she'd been struck with and was ready to do... something.


OOC:
@Korak - The Usher, on behalf of Korak, rolled 2 using 1d20 ((2)). Wisdom check you forgotted, so we didn't have to wait... We needn't have bothered... ;-) And yes, I'm sure Bodric or Maksim would be up for launching you just as soon as we get some sort of shrinking ray so you fit more conveniently in a missile launching mechanism.  Reminds me of "Minjas" on "Ask a Ninja"... Your clever comment earned you a +1 on that roll BTW, still it turned out lousy. ;-)

@Maksim - Yes, your attack/damage rolls were correct, please narrate the hit (I'm assuming you're attacking Cuddles², because Fluffy's AC is higher than 12 ;-)

@Durgon - Nice moral dilemma there buddy. Select your brush carefully, paints tend to smear and run in a storm like this... ;-)

@Agelia - You up Sistah! Let me know if you choose no action this round... The beasties are hungry after all!

PM's

[Private to Korak: I hope you don't mind me rolling for you on these kinds of things. I imagine you just forgot. ;-)
----
You see the beasts bearing down on you in the gloom and you seem to have suddenly lost your sense of direction. There is another anguished (humanoid?) howl somewhere to your right out in the storm]

[Private to Maksim Munzuk: You determine the stone area you are hiding in is a dead end. There are only two real "exits" and they are on the side facing the village. Bodric stands in one and Korak the other. There are a few cracks leading upwards out of the rocks, which lead into the storm, but there is no "back door". You determine that you've all essentially trapped or corralled yourselves here.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:37, Wed 23 Oct 2013.

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

~~~~

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!