…continues from Book #01, Chapter #09, Scene #02

Synopsis

The 26th Day of Ches in the Year of the Sudden Journey.

With the recovery of some of Altair’s Talons and requests from the Blackengorge Town Council, the party have set of for the east and to see the Nentir Vale for themselves.

With an ox-led wagon laden with goods and a large travelling party, they set off with the well wishes of the townsfolk ringing in their ears.

At the end of the second day of their journey they have found an old ruin next to the road in a forest. All seems amiss within the ruins and an apparition turns nasty!

Cast List

Scene Length

This scene starts on Thursday 17th May 2012 and is expected to be completed by the end of Friday 29th June 2012.

Players are expected to be able to post at least once a day.

Khalin turned from the solidifying creature before him and looked across at the group. His face was slack-jawed and impassionate, his eyes dark and brooding. The closest of his friends was Kireth and he stepped towards the mage with Aecris held high.

All eyes were on Khalin as the dwarf began to be square up to Kireth, his face unmoving but his intent obvious. Then, a low note reverberated around the room, coming from elsewhere in the basement. A call, perhaps from a horn, long and low.

The apparition continued to whirl and churn, its dark tendrils clinging to the shoulders of the dwarf. Its white hair swam in the air as it moved closer to Kireth, besides Khalin.

As it floated above the sprawled chair a thin line opened in its inhuman face and a gaping maw parted. Its head lolled back slightly and it began a gurgled keen, which gradually turned into a shriek that pierced the ears of all nearest the creature. The shriek was terrifying, throbbing to the core all those that were close and leaving a chill down their spine.

Kireth stood resolute against the cacophony but the others in range seemed to be frozen with fear. Beltak, at the rear, seemed to escaped the brunt of the noise.

When the figure closed its mouth it slowly began to dissipate into fleeting wisps of cloud, almost shimmering in the torchlight.

The force missile struck the apparition but appeared to do little damage.

The fighter’s longsword struck home, high into the creature’s face, the blade causing a small flash of frost to briefly spark. The fast-following stab of Tradden’s shortsword could find no purchase however.

Assurance and confidence flooded back to the rogue as he assumed a familiar position, lurking in the shadows.

As Zero slowly started to back away from the apparition he felt the hairs on his neck rise and sensed something behind him. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder and his fears were confirmed - the two large gnolls from the bottom of the stairs were lumbering towards the room, their violent red eyes transfixed upon the others in the room through the doorway.

Beltak strode forwards with purpose, his confidence in defeating ghostly apparitions lifted by the god in his heart. He murmured as he walked holding the symbol of Pelor he always carried around his neck high in the room, oblivious to the dangers behind.

The symbol began to glow with a glorious yellow light as he approached the apparition and as Beltak stopped next to it his voice rose into a crescendo of praise for Pelor.

The apparition twisted as the radiant light struck its form. Its ribbons of hair pulsed and throbbed as though a great pain coursed through it.

Khalin’s movements were slow and clumsy but he never took his dark eyes from Tradden for an instant. Muscles strained visibly even under his mail as he raised Aecris and brought it down on the young fighter.

The swipe was wide, whether by clumsy control or by force of will of the dwarf to avoid his friend. For a moment the dark eyes flickered.

Suddenly Khalin’s eyes brightened and he almost stumbled into Tradden. He bellowed something, a deep low growl, and swivelled to face the apparition.

His movements were still stilted, though, as if he were still trying to recover his composure.

The apparition’s white hair squirmed and writhed as it battled against the effects of Beltak’s glory and Tradden’s onslaught. It tried to find a safe passage past the young fighter’s whirling blades, but found the circle of steel too dangerous to penetrate.

With a hiss the apparition tried to grab Tradden with its ribbon-like hair, attempting to drain his spirit.

As it attacked it seemed to solidify as though unable to keep up its hold on the gap between planes.

With a shudder and a barely-audible shriek the apparition’s eyes flared red as the cold from Tradden’s blade and the energy from Beltak’s prayer held it fast.

The magical force slammed into the apparition, ribbons of energy crackling along the lengths of its white hair.

The blade sliced through strands of the creature’s white hair drawing a hiss and a churn of writhing strands.

The rogue felt confident that the apparition hadn’t seen him cross the room, but over his shoulder spied the zombies in the doorway looking his way.

To Zero’s horror the giant zombies started to move towards him. They lumbered through the doorway, having to duck through the frame, with long loping strides almost comically in slow-motion. Their fur, matted with stains and blood, shook rivers of dirt and dust gathered through the years. One held one of the shovels in its hands, an axe still fastened at its belt. The other held a shorter spade in one hand and its intricately curved horn in the other.

Slowly, but surely, they made their way into the room, snarling and spitting.

With Khalin appearing to be shaking off the effects of the apparition and Tradden’s whirling blades bringing a modicum of control to the situation, Beltak decided to withdraw from the melee.

He decided to leave the apparition with a parting shot before he’d turn his attention to helping Zero. He held his symbol of Pelor before him and prayed for his gods’ favour.

A brilliant light shone out from the symbol and burst towards the apparition, but seemed to cascade into a rainbow of colours as it struck the thing’s flowing hair without any further effect. The thing hissed, shaking off the effects from Beltak’s previous divine favour.

Another figure appeared in the gloom of the doorway, this time smaller and more human-like than the gnolls, a short and rusted sword held in its hand. With awkward movements it lurched into the room seeking out a living soul to quench its thirst for blood.

The white hairs on the apparition’s head floated wildly in the air, in a vain attempt to fend off Tradden’s blades.

It ducked and writhed from side to side and finally found an avenue of escape. The hairs shot forwards towards the young fighter, dodging his blades and entwining around his head.

The white hairs instantly flowed blood-red and Tradden almost dropped his swords as a weakness overcame him. The apparition released its grip on the young fighter and started to fade from view.

As the apparition became translucent once more it began to move, its arms wide and heading straight at, no, through, Tradden. The young fighter switched his blades quickly.

‘You’re not going anywhere!’ he cried and sliced down on the shimmering creature.

The blood red hair recoiled and the thing cried out a long baleful hiss. Tradden thought he had it cornered, and even drew a smile, but then the thing accelerated towards him, flying through the air, catching him by surprise.

Khalin growled and swept out with his hammer before the thing could escape.

But he pulled his swing short as the apparition disappeared through Tradden, coming back into view at the other side. It continued to accelerate, aiming straight for Zero and Beltak managed to swipe at it on the way past.

The scribe, too, failed to connect as it shot towards Zero.

‘Aargh!’ screamed the rogue, holding his arms in front of his face as the terror sped towards him. Within moments it was out of the other side and rounded on the group behind the gnolls, its blood-red hair seething and flashing in the torchlight.

Electricity crackled through the air, spreading from creature to creature. The human zombie, just at the entry to the room fell instantly, writhed in blue strands of lightning. The gnolls jerked spasmodically, one shrouded in a bright yellow light from Kireth’s staff. The apparition, in its insubstantial state, fared better, brushing aside the inconvenience of the mage’s attack.

After mere moments of Kireth’s barrage the energy abruptly halted, leaving a stale taste in the air and the smell of singed fur.

With Tradden’s flashing blades surrounding the gnolls, the rogue felt he managed to get some sort of cover.

The zombies began to close in on the nearest victim, in this case Tradden, heedless of the young fighter’s flashing blades.

Fur and blackened, congealed blood flew in all directions as the sharp weapons drew nicks and cuts from the large beasts. Without thought, however, they continued into the fray.

The first of the beasts drew back its shovel, ready to swing at Tradden’s head.

The young fighter seemed to smirk at the side of his mouth before disappearing completely! The shovel swung through the empty air where Tradden had been only moments before and the attack was spent.

The first gnoll had swung wildly against thin air, but the second had a couple of moments to orient itself with Tradden’s new position, swinging around with its dirt-covered spade, showering the young fighter with the dried mud of ages.

The dirt caught Tradden right in the eye and the room went dark.

Beltak looked indecisive, and not for the first time. With his symbol still outstretched towards the growing numbers of undead he began to mutter prayers to Pelor, hoping to help his friend, concentrating his energies on the beast that had just struck Tradden.

The light bathed not only the gnoll, but Tradden too. The young fighter seemed to shake his head as if clearing his vision.

The force of the blow staggered the gnoll back a little, its attention focused on the floundering Tradden for the moment. There was a satisfying crack, but it didn’t seem as if the creature was suffering any major damage from the blow.

‘I’d be fine if I could bloody see!’ yelled the young fighter, but he seemed to stand straighter and prouder at Khalin’s words.

More shadowy figures lumbered into the room - some of the unfortunate victims from the ground floor by the looks of it. They shuffled in, taking up positions ready to attack.

Even the ancient, mostly desiccated bodies from the floor above creaked into the room carrying whatever rusted weapons they still had in their hands from the battle above.

The apparition shimmered in the torchlight, its menace heightened by the glimpses of further zombies through its ghostly translucence. With the fighter surrounded and blinded before it, it could sense an easy victim.

Regardless of the dirt in his eyes, though, Tradden still managed to keep his blades moving in a circular pattern, cutting and slicing at the apparition’s swirling hair.

The blades did not stop its hair reached out, however, grabbing Tradden in their deathly embrace, leeching out his life energy.

The strands of hair latched onto the young fighter, sucking the essence from his body. As it did so, it appeared to materialise into the real world.

The spell certainly got the attention of the apparition, although did not spark the confusion that Kireth hoped it would. The apparition quickly released Tradden and its head whirled around to view the mage with black-eyed contempt.

The dirt in Tradden’s eyes stung the young fighter. He still couldn’t see, the room was just a dark blur, and his eyes streamed with stinging tears.

The wild swing connected with something - there was a muffled thump and Tradden felt the blade bite deep into desiccated flesh. With a flourish he withdrew the blade, with the knowledge that such a light target would not be the gnoll.

The zombie began to slump towards the floor, an eerie light sparkling within it’s eyes.

The eyes dimmed, however, as the creature slumped to the floor, its crumbling flesh finally released from its body it gradually turned to dust.

The move was silky smooth but the shot was wayward, clattering into the mud walls to the north of the gnoll.

The zombies were still caught within the arc of Tradden’s blades, swirling and cutting with renewed vigour now the young fighter could see again.

More rotting fur fell to the ground as the blades did their job.

Still staggering from the force of Khalin’s charge the gnoll with the shovel steadied itself and rounded upon the dwarf. With a wide swing it drew the shovel around into the side of the warlord’s head.

The shovel caught the dwarf on the side of the helm, showering his face with crumbling dust and dirt previously encrusted upon the shovel. The room went dark and there was an intense burning in his eyes.

The gnoll with the spade continued its assault on Tradden, seemingly eager to batter the young fighter into submission in the centre of the throng.

The swing was high, though, and easily dodged with a flourish.

Beltak could see that Khalin was suffering, much like Tradden had done before. He quickly switched his attention to the gnoll zombie with the shovel, holding out his holy symbol and calling his prayers. A golden light spilled out from the symbol, a pulse racing out towards the undead beast.

The light seared the zombie’s fur, burning and singing the orange patches into black. The zombie recoiled somewhat and the glow surrounded it and extended out towards Khalin. Even without his sight he could feel the warm blessing of the light, the yellow light spilling through his shut eyelids and relieving the pain.

But not even the blessed healing powers of Pelor could return his vision to normal.

The scribe then turned his attentions to Tradden who was stuck in the centre of the throng of undead.

‘Keep strong, Tradden!’ the scribe called over the noise of battle. ‘"Pelor will protect you.’

Tradden felt invigorated by the words as a warmth spread over his tiring limbs.

Regardless of Pelor’s blessing, Khalin found it hard to concentrate with such scratching pain behind his eyelids. There was something unearthly about the dirt, as though it had a power of its own.

But only musty air met the pirouette, and the dwarf had to catch his unchecked swing lest he lose his balance.

Tradden had kept his blades moving, regardless of the amount of creatures surrounding him. Their sharp edges found purchase once more, this time on one of the human zombies.

The shambling creature fell awkwardly as the blades sliced through one of its legs.

The others kept coming however, joined by more from the doorway. The one already in the room moved towards Beltak, Kireth and Zero studiously avoiding Tradden’s blades.

Out of reach of the blades it staggered forwards, clumsily swiping with its arms as it progressed heedlessly towards the scribe.

The thing swiped at Beltak with rigid arms, slamming into him with no thought for its own safety.

The hit drove the wind out of Beltak’s sails and he barely noticed another of the undead entering the room by the door.

The other zombies, more crumbling and ancient than the former, also made their way into the room, keeping a wide berth from the melee surrounding Tradden.

Stepping through the dust that once was their colleague they headed towards the gathered throng of adventurers, the one just through the doorway being the first to reach the group, another joining it more slowly from behind.

It lumbered towards the group, its blank eyes never wavering from Kireth.

It barreled into him trying to knock the mage over.

As Kireth recoiled another of its kind entered the fray.

A further figure pushed past the other zombies without remorse, entering the room and making a beeline towards the group.

The apparition seemed locked within Tradden’s whirling blades, unable to escape.

It took a few sharp nicks from the keen edges, but seemed unperturbed, its black eyes locked onto Kireth boring into the mage’s soul. With a sharp movement it shifted position, the tendrils of hair flowing after it as it moved, as though underwater.

Nestling between the wall and Tradden it suddenly had a superior position, with two victims to satiate its hunger. With hair parting it threw tendrils to either side, one set at the young fighter, the other set at the stricken warlord.

With a shudder that might even have betrayed a laugh it slowly started to fade once more.

As Kireth backed off and unleashed the force bolt the zombie began to follow. When the missile struck, however, the creature staggered back.

The force of Kireth’s magic was too strong and the creature fell, exploding into dust as it hit the ground.

Another slice of desiccated flesh and fur scattered to the ground. Tradden certainly appeared to have their attention now as the brutes turned to face him.

The bolt thudded into the gnoll’s back, its attention firmly on Tradden, and a large gush of blackened, congealed blood oozed out, dripping down its orange fur onto the floor.

The zombies turned their focus to Tradden - the blades and taunts keeping them focused on the young fighter. As they lumbered forwards, however, they were met by a ring of steel whirling out from the youth within.

Lumps of orange fur and rotting flesh were cut from the gnolls’ torsos and landed on the muddy floor with a squelch.

One of the gnolls, oblivious to the crossbow bolt lodged between its shoulder blades, exhaled a stale breath - perhaps once it would have been a growl - and swung round with both arms, trying to catch Tradden with its shovel.

Despite Tradden’s best laid plans a moment’s distraction cost him dear and the shovel caught him firmly in the side of the head causing him to stagger and almost fall with the force of the blow. There was no respite, though, as the other gnoll took advantage of the momentarily still fighter to launch its own attack.

Khalin heard the thud of rusting metal against Tradden’s skull and knew instantly his friend was in trouble. He could imagine the fighter just standing there, mouth agape, whilst zombies finished him off.

‘In Moradin’s name, lad!’ he roared, furious that he could still not see where he was. ‘How many times have I told you a good dwarvish helm is necessary!?’

As the dwarf hurtled towards one gnoll, the other swung its shovel as Khalin charged by...

The strike was in the right direction, but failed miserably to connect with anything other than fresh air. It did give Tradden the moment he needed, however, to steel himself against the gnoll’s blow.

The fighter lived, thanks to his blind friend, to breathe another day.

Beltak could see Khalin’s heroic dash across the battlefield to save his friend and was impressed by the dwarf’s loyalty. Even though he was blinded the warlord had come to his friend’s aid. The scribe would try his best to emulate him.

First he offered up a prayer to Pelor to give Tradden the strength he needed to continue the battle against these monstrosities.

With the fighter on firmer footing it was time to deal with the hideous zombie before him. Beltak drew back, in a similar vein to Kireth and unleashed the radiance of his Lord.

The zombie exploded with the radiant energy of Beltak’s spell and the priest urged Pelor to grant the light for Khalin to see once more.

A warmth flooded into Khalin’s face and the room came back into focus. The dwarf roared with delight!

This time the strike was true. With a splintering of bone the gnoll crumpled before the dwarf, sagging to the floor with a clatter of its shovel.

The remaining tattered remnant of a human lurching in the doorway ambled forwards with only the nearest living target in mind.

Heedless of Tradden’s flashing blades it struck out with one arm, which was instantly cut off at the elbow by the fighter’s shortsword in its swirling, deadly arc. Tradden grinned, but the zombie kept coming regardless of its new found disability. With its other arm it tried its best to slam the young fighter back.

Tradden dodged backwards to avoid the blow, but could see he was starting to get overrun.

The last of the desiccated creatures, slowly disintegrating as it moved, shuffled forwards.

With Tradden’s concentration on the other zombie before him it managed to make a strike before the young fighter had chance to put up a defence.

At the last second Tradden saw the arm and knocked it away with a slap of his sword.

The zombie of the man from the roof appeared to act with more grace than the others with their stilted movements. It held no weapon, but reached out with its arms straight at Khalin whose eyes were focused on protecting Tradden.

Both hands grabbed Khalin’s shield arm, long yellow nails digging into his skin even through the mail. With a vast heave, the strength of which belied the zombie’s frail frame, it began to drag the dwarf towards the door. The warlord’s stubborn frame refused to be dragged against its will, though!

The apparition appeared to be pinned against the wall by Tradden’s flowing blades, but advanced all the same.

When the cuts bit through its estranged form the blades slowed and the apparition struck quickly, its hair flowing out and grabbing the young fighter around the neck and head.

The tendrils latched on and Tradden felt a deep pain in the pit of his stomach, leaving him reeling and frail. Slowly but surely the tendrils turned red, feeding on the young fighter’s essence.

As the apparition solidified into the physical world it moved off towards the others, content with the knowledge its minions would finish the fighter.

The blade came down, locking the apparition within a steel embrace. It wasn’t going anywhere!

A frenzied action overcame the human zombie, its lethargy dispelled it took to rending its own decaying flesh from its bones with flailing arms in a flurry of activity. Whatever spell Kireth had laid upon it did not last long, but it was enough - it lashed out aimlessly, catching all of those around it who were stood close, with the exception of Tradden who kept his blades in front of him. After moments of catching it allies, and crushing the ancient zombie next to it, the spark of undeath went out of its eyes and it fell to the floor in a heap.

The bolt thudded into the gnoll’s exposed rear, lodging for a few moments in the base of its spine, quivering. It only staggered a step or two forwards before falling headlong into the mud, motionless.

Even with the destruction of the zombies Beltak could see that Tradden was still in trouble. The youth’s circle of steel blades had been flashing quickly and skilfully at the start of the battle, but were now becoming ragged and slow. Blood still seeped from cuts on his head that would soon turn septic if not treated. Beltak gulped, and raced towards the centre of battle and the apparition.

He could feel the icy stare of the apparition watching him as he moved to protect the fighter, praying to Pelor for his salvation and mercy. As he touched Tradden’s shoulder lightly, the young fighter felt a warmth spreading through his muscles, providing him renewed energy and closing his wounds.

With a powerful heave Khalin cast off the zombie’s arms. The thing hissed back at him, the first real sign of any intelligence in the creatures. As Khalin pushed away the thing began to move.

The strike seemed to stagger the zombie, the familiar sound of brittle bone crushing was all Khalin needed to know that the thing was frail.

With the sting of Khalin’s hammer still fresh in the zombie’s unearthly mind it switched tack, turning towards Tradden. It was met with wave after wave of blades, circling in front of it, slicing its ragged flesh.

Undeterred by the young fighter’s advances the zombie reached out to grab at his mail.

Pushing in between the blades it went straight for Tradden’s throat, grabbing the young fighter and quickly dragging him through the door with a hiss of glee.

The apparition’s ribbons of hair darted to and fro in a chaotic motion as it finally seemed free of Tradden’s spinning blades. With the young fighter out of the way it searched for a new target.

It appeared to ignore the priest and the dwarf before it and looked over to the west, to the one nearest its prize. It eyes and even its tendrils of hair focused and pointed at the thief next to its valuable treasure.

The thing hissed, a rasping, unhealthy sound, and then faded into that otherworldly place, hovering slightly above the ground, before shooting off to the west.

It moved quickly, almost too quickly for Beltak to anticipate, but the scribe managed to swing his mace at the last instant.

The weapon just hit fresh air as the apparition sped away.

The apparition came dangerously close to Kireth, who responded in turn with his own style of attack.

It hardly seemed to notice, the force energy just crackling around its translucent body. Its eyes were focused purely on the thief, who was staggering back in horror, clutching his crossbow tightly with one hand, the other held up in a vain effort to resist the apparition’s onslaught as it solidified in front of him.

The touch of the apparition’s hair was icy cold to Zero, draining the energy and will from his body.

A black cloud rose from the muddy floor, surrounding itself about the apparition. It shimmered in the torchlight, almost like a sheen of frost around the creature.

The bolt pierced the apparition’s defences and it howled, perhaps for the first time, at the pain.

Beltak moved cautiously towards the apparition, his symbol of faith held high and his lips chanting a prayer.

A brilliant ray of light shot from the small divine charm, searing the apparition with its golden radiance.

The radiance spluttered and darkened as it stuck the apparition turning from a golden glow into a nightmarish black.

The pale figure raised it’s ghostly arms but the hammer crashed through its defences to strike true.

As the craghammer swept through the apparition it immediately began to change. It grew smaller and the tendrils of hair receded, the black and tattered garments that seemed to surrounded it started to solidify. Within moments it was no longer the horrific visage of undeath but the bowed and seated human once more.

It looked up at the device upon the desk and raised an arm towards it in hope. The orb slowly began to close, the smaller orbs receding into the centre and the hemisphere closing on one another in metronomic regularity. When the orbs shut there was a sigh and shudder from the figure, then it faded from view, taking the chill in the air with it.