Dilemma grimaces at the sight of the mummy... And, she resolves that they're not going to claim a single, other victim!

 Keeping her distance, because she's no dunce of a mage, she attempts to blind them with a light spell.

 "SMILE!"

Casting light at the mummy's eyes in an attempt to blind them; they are entitled to a Saving Throw versus Spells; failure means that they're blinded for twelve turns!

Ishmael moves to a dozen dwarf paces and launches a dagger at the monster.

19:11, Today: Ishmael rolled 14,4 using 1d20+3,1d4+1

AC 4

Should have got under 10'

Dax comes to a stop when the mummy turns toward them, he glances over his shoulder, as he unslings his bow, "Dryvyk, where are you?" he mutters. "Let's keep our distance, if we can, then it can't touch anyone."

The ranger sends an arrow at the creature, but the wind pushes it far off target.

---

Dax Moonblade rolled 8 using 1d20+2 for Longbow Attack.

As if summoned by the ranger, there came the sound of hooves plunging through the mucky ground as the young knight charged ahead! He lowered his torch-lance at the mummy's chest and set his spurs to his mount's belly, willing the horse to veritably fly!

"FOR LIGHT AND VENGEANCE!!!" was Sir Dryvyk's battle cry!


Uh-oh.
Sir Dryvyk of Drakeholme rolled 3 to miss using 1d20+2. (Natural 1!) - Torch-Lance Jousting vs Mummy.
Will continue riding past to create distance if possible...

Dang. I realize this wasn't the best idea, but dang sure would have been cool! I'm sure the result will be equally impressive, just not in the sort of way which will win our young hero any renown!
This message was last edited by the player at 05:20, Fri 31 Mar 2023.

Knowing his options were limited but their need great, Malivoire pulled forth his wand and from a somewhat safe distance sent a bolt of sizzling energy at the masked mummy.

OOC:
Use Wand of Magic Missiles.
09:55, Today: Malivoire rolled 4 using 1d6+1.  Damage.  Note: I assume our Bless has ended, otherwise add an additional +1 dmg.

Dilemma’s arcane light blazes across the surface of the undead monster’s mask, prompting it to stumble backward a step, holding its staff for balance. A moment later, Malivoire’s eldritch missile lances the mummy’s chest.

10:12, Today: Labyrinth Lord rolled 76 using 1d100.  Resistance.

10:13, Today: Labyrinth Lord rolled 3 using 1d20.  Save vs. Spells.

10:23, Today: Labyrinth Lord rolled 95 using 1d100.  Resistance.

OOC: I’ll wait for Barnabus to chime in before adjudicating further.

Fearful of both the hard-charging Sir and the necrotic grip of the mummy, Barnabus takes an unsteady swing at the newly awakened (high?) priest of Set, already stepping back before his mace has had a chance to disrupt its wrappings.

B. misses.
11:42, Today: Barnabus rolled 10,5 using d20+3,d6+3.  Cudgel Attack.

Although the mummy is blinded, and despite the fact that none of the physical weapons employed against it caused it harm, it clearly senses the danger that remains nearby.

It extends its right arm forward, whispering a single, guttural word, the bandages about its forearm loosening from around the emaciated limb. From within the wrappings, an object tumbles out, a statuette crafted from the same glinting metal as the mask the undead creature wears. It lands on the damp earth with a soft thud, and immediately begins to grow.

In the blink of an eye it has reached a stature of eight feet in height. Its features are not sharply defined, its face a collection of dull angles that merely suggest a stern expression, but its large proportions are indicative of an ancient warrior. It sweeps its head back and forth, plainly perceiving the enemies gathered against it as it moves to stand between them and the mummy.

OOC: It is the party’s turn to act.

The barrow mummy has an armor class of 3. It is currently blinded. For the purposes of turning, it is a 7 HD creature.

The metal golem has an armor class of 2.

Disregarding the 8 foot sentinel (if such disregard is even possible), Barnabus squares up against the night-struck mummy and lands a stalwart blow with his enchanted cudgel straight against its chest.

After taking a half step away, he calls out, "Light it up," trusting that his companions have the coordination and means to do so.

B. hits for 7 dmg.
14:52, Today: Barnabus rolled 19,7 using d20+3,d6+3.  R#2 attack mummy.

"So much for tactics," Dax mutters as Dryvyk charges at the mummy and Barnabus moves into melee with it.

The ranger is about to reach for another arrow when suddenly a massive soldier appears, ready to defend the undead priest. Dax drops his bow, and draws his blade, and strides forward to meet the new opponent.

"Get away from here!" he shouts as he swings his sword at the golem.

---

Dax Moonblade rolled 23, hitting better than AC -6, for 12 Damage.

Ishmael throws a (mundane) dagger at the mummy and then disappears into the darkness.

08:06, Today: Ishmael rolled 19,2 using 1d20+2,1d4.

Hits AC -1 for 2

 "Damn it!" Dilemma hisses.

 Next, she focuses her efforts on the golem... This time, her magic should create darkness over their sensors.

Darkness on the golem's eyes!

Amazingly, Sir Dryvyk was able to recover from... whatever it was that had gone wrong. He might have blamed it on his mount, but considering the boggy ground they were fighting on, it was a compliment to the creature for being able to sustain a charge at all! The torch-lance sputtered but the knight decided it might be best to change his tactics slightly. He jabbed the butt-end into the soft ground and drew his sword, wheeling his horse for another charge at the mummy!

"For Searlait and Kraomar!"


Magic sword vs Mummy:  Sir Dryvyk of Drakeholme rolled 5 to MISS! Gah!

And keeping distance as much as possible.

Malivoire deliberated a half-second over Barnabus' direction, but with a slight grunt of frustration he complied.  He exchanged his wand for a flask of oil and scrambled across the uneven turf to provide himself a clear angle to hurl the oil at the mummy.  Muddied and disheveled from the effort, he heaved the flask for all he was worth.

Unfortunately his hands had become slippery during his scrambling, and the throw was woefully inadequate...

OOC:
09:39, Today: Malivoire rolled 4 using 1d20+2.  Throw Oil.
This might be so bad it can't coat anyone, except maybe Malivoire himself?

Dax lands a heavy blow, sparks rising from the impact as his sword bites into the golem’s flank.

10:54, Today: Labyrinth Lord rolled 5 using 1d20.  Save vs Spells.

Extending her hand, Dilemma speaks an incantation, a globe of darkness suddenly fixing on the massive metallic creature’s head. Apparently blinded, it strikes out in panic, shattering the trunk of a nearby cypress tree with one of its blows. Continuing to flail with its arms, it surges southward, moving at a stumbling run back in the direction of the field of barrows, its rumbling footfalls audible through the rainfall. As it moves, it uproots a patch of brush with a unsteady step.

Barnabus hammers the mummy’s chest with his cudgel. One of Ismael’s knives sinks into its shoulder a split second later, just as Sir Dryvyk rides past, swinging for the mummy’s head, but missing.

A vial of oil whistles past, inches away from Barnabus’ nose, before shattering on the ground several paces away.

The mummy, apparently sensing that it is outmatched, takes its staff in both hands and breaks it across its knee, the sharp snap followed by a momentary flash of unsettling green illumination. When the light fades a moment later, the walking corpse has vanished, its staff reduced to ashes which rapidly meld with the soil in the driving rain.

OOC: Combat over, unless someone wants to chase the golem.

As a reminder, the golem is moving southward, in the opposite direction of Helix.

With the sudden departure of the mummy of many tricks and the stumbling departure of its sentinel, Barnabus stares in wonderment: he had smote the mummy and not paid with a year of his life.

He also can't help but think that fortune had smiled upon them once, twice, even thrice this storm-ridden night upon the moors.

"Ynes and the others should not be left a minute longer with the cart," he urges.

----

Rejoin Ynes and then back to Helix unless Mal hares after the golem.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:36, Tue 04 Apr 2023.

Dax watches the golem stumble away, it's head encased in a bubble of blackness. "How long will that last, Dilemma? I'm wary of just leaving it...we might be best to chase it down while it can't see and destroy it if we can.

And the mummy! Was that some sort of teleport? Will it be waiting for us on our next foray? With its golem?"

Sir Dryvyk may have been cursing, only his horse would know as the rain and the sucking sound of horse hooves on soggy ground drowned out whatever he was muttering. Harder to mask was the set of his brow.

He rode up to the others and sheathed his sword. The wet blade would create some work for Andryr later on to keep it polished. "My rope is back at the entrance we came from. If someone had a coil, we could try to trip up the golem. Once it's down in the mud, we might have a better chance of disabling it. I do wonder if the thing is headed back to meet up with its master. Do you suppose that spell returned the mummy to its barrow?"

Barnabus considers Sir's questions.

"It might have. It might be a world away. It's intelligent. It wouldn't choose a place we could easily find."

He shrugs.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:47, Tue 04 Apr 2023.

The golem continues its blind run, running southward at a fierce speed, vanishing into the mist that persistently shrouds the moor, its footfalls fading beneath the drumming of the rain.

It takes little time for the adventurers to locate the cart and their companions, who have hastily dressed Ol Gib’s wounds and laid him beneath a wide piece of canvas to keep him as dry as possible.

OOC: I don’t want to override anyone’s desired course of action. If any still wish to follow the golem, locating its tracks at present is easily accomplished.

”We covered Searlait’s and Kraomar’s bodies with blankets and I said a prayer to Crom, that their spirits might find rest and reward,” Ynes says.

”Were you able to find what escaped the barrow?”

Sir Dryvyk was in a dark mood as they made their way back to the wagon. He helped Dilemma down off his horse and handed the reins to Andryr along with his sword, asking the squire to oil the leather and blade.

"I imagine we'll be seeing that thing again for having let it go," the young knight grumbled. "But I do think it would be a great asset to our endeavors if we were able to obtain the means by which it was summoned... doing so will require that we find the mummy, and who but the War-Angels of the Eternal Battlegrounds might know where that fell thing has gone off to!"

Sir Dryvyk checked on Ol'Gib and made sure he was as comfortable as could be. The elder squire and quartermaster of the party would not approve of the state in which their camp was left following the events which had taken place. "Get some rest my friend, we'll tidy up." He said as he turned away to organize the endeavor.

"Let's gather up what we can and stash it nearby. We'll re-supply in town after we tend to the wounded... and remember the fallen..." Suddenly the thought of cleansing the Barrowmoors became much heavier in the young knight's mind. This was an undertaking that would take time, and he needed to plan accordingly in order to reduce the chances of something like this happening again.

Malivoire was inclined to agree with the rest.  The mummy could have transported itself to nearly anywhere, especially through the powerful sacrifice of its staff.  The odds of it choosing Helix were very low in the mage's estimation, so their immediate goal was accomplished.  As for the golem, seeing it heading off back to the barrows was good enough for now.  It was not likely to present a significant threat to the village without direction, and with the mummy gone...

When they regrouped with Ynes Malivoire filled her in on the details of the short encounter, and then helped to set the camp into some order and prepare for the return to Helix.  There was much to discuss with Mazzuhs and Brother Othar.  Like every other recent return, he realized.

Checking that all is secure within the cart, the company begins its journey back to Helix, the sound of the rain their only companion as they make their way across the shrouded moor.

Sensing Sir Dryvyk’s dark mood, Lampert approaches the knight. ”All’s not lost, Sir,” the young man offers with an encouraging smile, ”Ol Gib, I think he’s just about the toughest soldier I’ve ever met. He’ll pull through. I’m sure of it.”

Thrathisk, the unquestioned master of the gray swamp and tenth king of the northern lizard folk listened intently to the talk of his warriors. His most accomplished fighters and war leaders had gathered within the smoke filled hall of telling to speak to the lizard nation’s future and of those threats that the people must be most watchful for in the coming seasons.

Thrathisk was pleased by all he had heard. The words of his oldest advisors, who had faithfully served his predecessor Sirtyrth, did not surprise him. Netrint and Erakre had urged that the folk keep their eyes westward, watchful for the froglings, who had been given to raiding the folk’s lands of late, and who they believed represented the greatest threat to the folk’s holdings as they grew bolder. Thrathisk had long agreed with the wisdom of this course, but he was gratified when the most strident of his warriors, Sorth, Itun, and Jhige had given their voices in support of it as well.

Since taking the throne, Thrathisk had opposed those who sought to continue the banditry the lizard folk had once pursued against the human villages to the north. Although there had been instances when great treasures had been seized during such raids, the king had long thought that the hostility it invited from the northern towns was not worth the bounty gained. At first, the youngest of his people had chafed against his opposition to the attacks, but now, at long last, it seemed they had come to fully understand their king’s reasoning.

The talking ended and Thrathisk knew it was his time to speak. Rising from his throne, he raised his left hand. ”All have honored their king and their people with their words this day. It is good that we see the growing danger of our foes to the west. Now is the time when we must…”

His words were lost within a sudden, deafening crash, the northern wall of the hall collapsing into splinters as a massive figure charged inside. Even before Thrathisk could clearly see what it was, it had torn Kalti’s head from her shoulders with one of its wild blows and punched a hole in old Urtesrirk‘s chest. As dust and smoke swirled, the king finally perceived that the invader was a warrior made entirely of shining metal, undoubtedly a creation of sorcery from the world of men.

Braziers toppled, fire taking hold of the great hall’s walls as Thrathisk grabbed his spear. With a roar, he threw himself into the fight alongside his warriors, who had already moved to attack the monster. But even as the battle rage seized him, Thrathisk’s heart was filled with guilt, as he realized that he had been fooled, blinded to where the true threat to his people’s survival arose from.