The
(by Dave M)
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A cold wind blew down out of the surrounding mountains into the old silent
monastery. A small hoot owl perched on a window sill of the gate house cranked
its neck , surveying the empty courtyard below. A large stone tower rose up
from the center of the compound into the gray night sky. No moonlight could be
seen through the low thick blanket of clouds. A large bell clanked softly,
gently swaying in the breeze in the bell tower overhead. Fluffy snow fell
across the compound but was quickly melted as it hit the large number of burnt
out smoldering buildings. A snow drift formed at the doorstep of the gatehouse
covering a small heap of bony corpses under a thick white blanket. On the top
of the gatehouse battlement a lone large figure crouched trying to warm himself
under a snowy blanket as he surveyed the courtyard beyond. Blowing into his
hand to warm them, he turned the pages of an old magazine to pass the time.
Suddenly the figure's head rose and turned instinctively to the tower. A loud
thud broke the silence of the cold night, as the tower door violently swung
open and four black hooded creatures emerge from the dark tower. The figure
watched these intently as the creatures descend into the courtyard but
strangely marched off to the west toward the graveyard. Sighing a bit of relief
the figure started to settle back down when another five cloaked creatures
emerge from the open doorway. The lead creature, carrying a massive mace,
caught the figures gaze with fiery red eyes. The creature raised its huge mace
toward the figure and gave off a eerie screech as the five proceed in haste
across the courthouse toward the gatehouse. The figure rose, throwing back his
blanket revealing a large burly man in black bear furs, donning a large sword
across his back and silver blade at his waist. He blew into a whistle and
shouted in a deep thunderous voice, `To Arms, to Arms, they have returned!!! To
Arms!!!'
[Earlier that day]
The party, exhausted after spending most of the day exploring the central
tower, decided to return to the gatehouse and turn in for the night. They
reassured the liberated ex-slaves they had left behind in the gate house, now
huddling near the fireplace, that all was well and brought additional firewood
and foodstuff from the kitchen. Strangely not much was found in the way of
survivors or real treasure in the abandoned tower. Sure there was that one
ghoulish creature. Likely one of the monks having succumbed to some strange
form of wereghoul disease or something similar no doubt. Though the creature did
not put up to much of fight and was easily disposed of. Unfortunately the
potatoes will need to be thoroughly cleaned. And a mental note, confined spaces
is not the best place for lobbing Web spells, Celceor noted, as he threw a log
on the dwindling fire in the fireplace. Other than that the place was strangely
abandoned. Well, except for that one individual the party had run across in the
temple. But he was truly out of his mind. Anyone that claims that `EVLES are an
abomination' surely can not have all their senses about them. Not to mention
throwing themselves out of a window to their deaths after conversing with Bent
the parties dwarfish bard. Sure Celceor
could relate to the frustration of trying to carry on a logical conversation
with any dwarf and had on a number of occasions thought of slicing his own
wrists in frustration, but to actually go through it was a bit much. But then
again, this whole `Alfather' sect was a very confused and misguided bunch of
individuals. And while he hated to admit it, he felt the demise of these
deranged inhabitants was likely the judgement of some good and just god.
Though he must say, the insane priest was at least nice enough to draw the
party some maps of the region and of lower levels, as well as explain a number
of things before he so rudely jumped to his death. It seemed that while
repairing a crumbing wall in the beer cellar the monks came across an adjoining
cavern and while investigating, they unleashed a horrible ghostly creature with
blazing red eyes. It seemed this creature was likely the one responsible for
the missing priests and the wereghoul creature they ran into earlier.
As to treasure, while no caches of gold or silver were found, the party did
find a few interesting trinkets. Celceor had ended up with a few magical
incense, which he really had no idea what they did. He puzzled it over as he
warmed his hands by the growing flames. He had heard of magical bowls which
could summon forth great beast, but these incense were likely minor in their
incantation. Likely only doing some minor healing of the occupants while making
the room smell of frankincense, he thought. Though there was also the set of
prayer breads, and that gold holy symbol. But belonging to this strange cult,
Celceor did not want any part of those. And then there was the library, well if
one could call it that. Rows upon rows, and bookcase upon bookcase, full of
glorious books and tomes. Celceor was about to start filling the Magic bag to
overflowing with all the rare text that filled the room, when to his horror, he
discover that the whole collection were only replicas of the same book. And to
add insult to injury, they were not even of ancient or magical nature, but only
of the twisted hymns and prayers of the deranged priests. Though, figuring they
may be worth something to someone, he did pocket a few. On a brighter note,
Celceor did score some colored ink, and a number of new sheets of paper for
penning his journals and accounts of the party treasury. At least that was
something he thought. Though he could really use some magical ink for scribing
the new spells he had come across into his own spell book. It had been some
time now since he had a good nights rest to himself were he could work on his
studies. The past few weeks
pestering him about.
Pulling out a thin tome and blowing the dust from it, Celceor slowly thumbed
through the few pages. The old tome found in the high priests chambers was
labeled: `The history of the Mountain Keep' and told the history surrounding
the monastery. It described how the old keep was captured by a barbarian
chieftain named `Hrothgar the Horrible' some time past. And how Hrothgar and
his followers worshipped some evil beast god called `Cryonax'. A name which
Celceor did not recognize. It then went on to explain how Lord Rodney Piper
Nigrum of Antil defeated Hrothgar at the battle of the Blizzard pass, but that
the fallen body of Hrothgar was lost and never recovered. After which, the keep
was refurbished by some monks who used it as a brewery and scriptorium and gave
shelter to travelers while keeping an eye on the mountain passes.
Putting the book down Celceor pondered the situation. It seems that these monks
had likely uncovered the resting spot of old Hrothgar and disturbed his evil
crypt somewhere in the basement. It seemed that in order to make things right
the party would have to discover what was disturbed and try to set it right. Or
it might be that they would just have to put old Hrothgar to rest once and for
all. In any case, what they were looking for was in the beer cellar through a
crumbled wall in the basement of the Tower. In the morning they would have to
go and check this out. With the tower and the evil surrounding it cleared, the
group could then make proper preparation for their long track through the snowy
mountains back to civilization. And who knows, maybe use the keep as a base for
future expedition and studies.
Celceor put the tome away and settled in for the night. Most of the others had
already dozed off to sleep, huddling together under blankets and fur skins
about the floor to try to stay warm. Wryan, the so called Spear Maiden because
she was the only women in the party and had a uncanny ability to wield a spear,
headed off down the stairs for her shift to watch the door . Celceor, looking
up and spying the trap door above them pointed saying. `What about that?'.
Pausing at the steps and looking up she replied, `I would not worry about that
too much. what do you think… these things can climb?'. Celceor only shrugged
figuring he would at least point it out. His companions were competent fighters
and knew what they were doing. As he laid down his head, he saw Fafnir, a large
burly man, quickly shuffling across the room. Fafnir grabbed some tissue,
folded a magazine under his arm, and headed down the stairs exclaiming he
needed to visit the outhouse and would be back shortly. Fafnir was one of the
few of the more capable of those they had rescued. Though, Strangely, since
Celceor was the one to actually release him from his bonds, old Fafnir felt
beholden to Celceor. Celceor thought that was a bit childish, but then again
having a large thug looking out for his well being was quit handy, so who was
he to argue. With that he rolled over and entered a deep trance as only elves
can do.
Suddenly Celceor was awoken by shouts of alarm from Wyvern on the lower level
indicating that someone...or something ...was trying to come through the lower
door. Jumping to his feet he quickly grabbed up his bow and sword, but before
he could take a step he was hit by a cold blast of air across the back of the
neck. Spinning about, he saw the trap door just above him flung wide open with
a thud and three robed creatures quickly descend the stars into the dormitory.
Celceor, kicking himself for having not secured that door when he thought of
it, pulled his sword moved toward the figures.
The robed figures, resembling the wereghoul creature they had seen earlier,
quickly scurried down the stairs with lightning speed. They ripped into the
poor victim unfortunate enough to be sleeping at the bottom, who was just
stirring from his slumber. This, luckily for the party, was just the wretched
goblin guide Scortch. The party had been deliberating just how to best deal
with this evil creature now that his task as guide was done. They could not
just let the evil creature go free, nor could they really drag him back to town
to be put to death. As it was, the robed creatures seemed content on impaling
their savage claws deep into the goblins flesh, ignoring the others people who
were frantically scurry from the area, and the problem seemed to have
ironically resolved itself.
With a quick burst of light from across the room, Eggo standing up, holy symbol
before him, commanded the vile creatures to depart. Blinded, and bewildered,
the robed creatures quickly scurried back up the stairs and out the trap door
into the cold snowy night. Werkle, a valiant Dwarven fighter, looking like he
had slept in his armor, charged after the creatures, weapon in hand. Intent on
cleaving the vile things down as they fled, the dwarf pursued them up the
stairs. But as he started to climb out the trap door there was an exchange of
muffled sounds of clanging and scuffling. Suddenly the Dwarf, bleeding, went
limp, and hung like a rag doll in the trap doorway.
Seeing that there were more of those creatures atop the building that had just
mauled the dwarf, Celceor quickly ascended the stairs in an attempt to retrieve
the dwarfs body before it could be mauled any more, or even worse …. carried
off into the night. Grabbing hold of the dwarfs feet, he gave a hard yank. But
even though he had the weight of the dwarf and his armor on his side, Celceor
was not able to pull dwarf free. It seemed the mighty creatures above had dug
their claws into Werkle and had no intention of letting their prey go. Suddenly
the dwarf jerked free. With a hideous shriek the creatures scurried off across
the roof as Eggo once again, holding his holy symbol on high had proclaimed
that the vile creatures depart
immediately. It appeared that Pelor was indeed among the party that night.
Celceor, quickly pulling Werkle back down into the dormitory, found that the
dwarf was not too badly injured but only seemed paralyzed. Celceor had seen
this before with the other wereghoul. It appeared that these creatures carried
some sort of toxic resin on their claws which paralyzes their victims. Not
wanting any more of these creatures to come down or to be impaled himself,
Celceor, waving his arms about, started casting an intricate spell. Placing the
newly arrived reinforcement atop the battlement he commanded the Celestial dog
to attack anything it saw on the roof top. This dog, he thought would hopefully
kill some of the creatures that were fleeing or would slow and possibly injure
any that were not. As the dog raced off biting at only lord knows what, Celceor
grabbed hold of the handle of the trap door and pulled it shut, securing the
latch as best he could.
Having secured the trap door, and laying the dwarf to the side of the stairs,
Celceor could hear the sounds of battle on the low level growing much louder.
Going to reclaim his dropped weapons, he noticed movement outside the window.
Briefly pausing to take a look, he saw Bent, the dwarfish bard, tumble out the
doorway past two cloaked figures and into the snowy courtyard. Celceor's
curiosity at the tactics of this dwarf quickly disappeared, as a large terrifying
creature emerged out of the darkness. It was a dark shadowy creature with a
large horned helmet, sharp twisted claws and blazing red eyes. Its ethereal
cloaked body emitted an eerie gray aura which left a strange blackish haze in
it stead. It let out ghastly groan as it
drifted toward the open doorway below.
Celceor, frozen in place at this horrid sight, was quickly revived as he heard
Nick, a young aspiring rogue who continuously claimed to be older than he
really was, arguing with Wryan, the spear maiden. Racing down the stairs,
Celceor saw little nick attempt to shut the door forcing a cloaked skeletal
creature in the doorway out into the cold. Though just as he had it shut and
was about to lock it, Wryan, seemingly under some kind of strange possession
grabbed hold of the door and ripped it wide open again. Then she calmly
strolled out into the cold night air dropping her spear from her hand into the
deep snow. With the door open a very cold blast of air suddenly filled the
room, causing frost to form on the walls, and stairwell. Celceor, his breath
now turning into a small white billowing cloud, was still wearing his flannel
under garments and was not effected by the sudden drop in temperature. The
others however were not fairing as well as they started to shiver and their
extremities began to turn a strange bluish color.
Spying the shadowy creature on the edge of the light source, Celceor, waving
about some magical reagents and chanting an incantation unleashed a greenish
arrow into the beast. However, the arrow shot right through the shrouded
creature as if it was not there. Thankfully, Eggo had just arrived on the
scene, he should be able to make quick work of this Celceor thought. But as the
priest was about to raise his holy symbol, the shadowy beast let out an ear
piercing moan and motioned the party to join it out in the frigid nights air.
To Celceor's amazement the priest slowly lowered his holy symbol and likewise
marched out into the courtyard and joined Wryan at the creatures side. Luckily,
being elven Celceor was resistant to such
childish mind tricks and chose to remain inside where it was safe and warm.
Then, as if out of a some strange dream, amid the sounds of battle and the
howling of the cold savage wind, came the soothing sound of someone singing in
the courtyard. Remembering Bent the bard had actually run out there previously
Celceor could only conclude it must be him. Now for whatever reason the bard
thought this was the appropriate time to break into song was beyond Celceor.
But then again, music did have a way to sooth the savage beast. Mayhaps it just
might help.
Seeing that the magic arrow he threw was ineffective and seeing not only Wryan
but now Eggo had fallen under the creatures hypnotic control, Celceor pulled out
his best spell. The night lit up as a flash of fire bellowed into the midst of
the creature, though to Celceor's horror, the fiery plum appeared to just blast
right through the creature. At almost the same time, Nick unleashing a sling
bullet, likewise shot through the midst of the ghostly creature. Was this some
kind of illusion or sick joke, Celceor thought as he and Nick looked at each in
bewilderment.
Seeing its master attacked, a cloaked minion forced its way into the room and
charged Celceor. As it was about to dig its claws into the mage, its was
blasted by a strange grayish ray by Keygan, the gnomish locksmith the party had
saved, and was stopped dead in its track. Pieces of bones flew about the room,
as the beast exploded from the ray, sending the black tattered robe drifting
lifeless to the floor. Ah, a disrupt undead spell, Celceor thought. Although
timely, it was a hideous arcane spell. One from the dark arts that Celceor
himself never dabbled in. Those sorts of spells were left to those characters
of more questionable alignments. He tended to focused in Conjuration and had no
time nor desire for those black arts.
Out in the frigid courtyard, the shadowy creature, put a hand on the priest and
pulled him close. He then reached his icy claws right through Eggos armor and
pulled out what can only have been Eggos soul, as the cleric suddenly turned
ghost white and collapsed into the snow drift at the creatures feet. Wryan,
likewise under the creature's control started to undress at the creatures side
at its command. She tore the magical holy symbol from around her neck and
dropped it near the downed cleric. On seeing this, the creatures face formed
into a twisted smile as it kicked the priests body and moaned in delight.
Celceor, seeing that the direct approach was not working, decided to go with
the indirect and summoned a huge beetle right on top of the shadowy creature.
If nothing else this might tie the beast up for a bit, while the party could
devise some sort of plan to deal with it, he thought. Though, as suspected the
insects attack proved ineffective, and even worse, its spray of acid totally
missed its target. What do you want from a dumb bug. And all the while the
temperature continued to drop.
Thinking that the battle could not get any worse, a number of the robed
weregouls, likely driven from the battlement above, appeared from around the
side of the gatehouse and charged at the huge beetle. They ripped into the
insect with their long dripping claws and paralyzed the huge beast instantly.
Suddenly a vial of what appeared to be water was heaved into the midst of the
shadowy creature from someone in the room and hit true. The splattering water
burned the creatures ghostly skin as it hissed in pain. It then instinctively
turned its fiery gaze toward the room to try to discern whom it had been that
had thrown the liquid. Bent, seizing this opportunity, grabbed the priests body
from under the creatures nose, and pulled him a short distance away. retrieving
a scroll from his belt and reading its cryptic writing, the bard forced
magically healing energy back into the cleric body and revived the cleric.
Eggo, on regaining consciousness, grabbed his holy symbol and in a thunderous
voice which shook the tower at its very foundation, demanded the beast of hell
to flee. The area suddenly bathe in an intense light from on high. The shadowy
creature, recoiling in pain, let loose a high pitch squeal and immediately
darted across the courtyard. Its translucent body never touching the snow. The
remaining weregouls likewise fled in terror and scurried headlong for the tower
slamming the large double doors shut behind them.
With the evil creature gone, the temperature immediately returned to normal.
Wryan, now shaken lose of the creatures control, reclaimed her glowing spear
and holy symbol from the snow. The party, cold and exhausted, reassembled in
the lower building. Throwing the remains of the cloaked bodies out into the
snow and shutting the door to the cold night air, the party breathed a sigh of relief
and started to take stock. It appeared that both Wryan and Eggo had been
drained by some awful undead energy, most of the party members were suffering
from cold effects, but were otherwise healthy and still standing. Eggo laying
his hands on those he could, healed some of the frost bite damage
Suddenly the door flew open, and a large dark figure stood in the doorway.
Reeling about the party was relieved to see it was no other than Fafnir,
holding his magazine and exclaiming that the party was out of tissues. Looking
around and seeing the lifeless corpses and the wounded party members standing
about, he raised an eyebrow and questioned, `did I miss something?'. Celceor
only shook his head and headed back upstairs. Some body guard he was.
Though upon reaching the top of the stairs, Celceor was disappointed to
discover that the civilians had actually tended to the lowly goblins wounds.
Didn't they know he was a hideously evil creature. Maybe they felt some sort of
obligation to him for directing the party out of the Underdark. In any case,
Celceor could only hope that the wretched creature did not survive the night.
Looking about Celceor decided it was time to discuss the nights events and
pulled up a soap box and started into the crowd.:
`Well, that was.....something.' he started, " I think that creature is
what is known as a Vampiric Thoul. It seemed to have the ability to beguile the
weak minded, and suck the actual heat for those that stood too close to it. Not
to mention the ability to drain the life force from those unfortunate enough to
get within its chilling grasp. Fortunately for me, my training and elven
background made me resistant to such foolish mind tricks, and my flannel
pajamas, which incidentally I was wearing all combat, kept me more than warm
enough from the frigid cold that seemed to be plaguing the rest of the party
allowing me to come out of that encounter unscathed
Well, we do know that thing is immune to stones, and might even require a
magical weapon to actually cause damage. Also it is very difficult to hit, as
the beast tends to be almost translucent, with my spells flying right through
it. Though the holy water seemed to find its mark and was the only thing that
affected the beast. Well, other than Eggos timely turning. Seems Pelor was with
us this night.
So, As I see it we have four options. One, we can count ourselves lucky and
bugger out right now. Two, we can do some quick healing and pursue our foes
before they have a chance to regroup. Three, we can try to rest up, and head
out in the morning. We do have a map of where we are going now. Or four,
lastly, we can rest up, and head down into the beasts lair, ie the beer cellar,
in the morning looking for some payback. If we choose the later, we can only
hope we will be left alone until morning, at which point I can take the
appropriate spells to deal with the this beast. Magic Missiles, and Area of
effect spells should do the trick. Mayhaps a silence spell or such from our
bard and priest would also help out.
what's the party think?'
At that, Celceor looked about the room to see that most had either fallen back
to sleep or wondered off to sharpen weapons. Celceor only shrugged and stepped
off his soap box. In any case the party should rest up and figure out what to
do in the morning, he thought. Running off in the middle of the night in the
cold would be just suicidal.
With that Celceor headed back to bed. Though this time, he left one of the
windows slightly ajar and had his small owl companion, Rune, keep an eye on the
courtyard below. His little friend tended to be up through the night anyways
and had excellent night time vision for which to detect the enemy. Fafnir,
having missed the previous fight decided he wanted to take a watch and headed
up to the battlement above for a good view of the surrounding area.
Celceor barely got to sleep when he was awoken by the stirring of his owl
friend, as well as the high pitch sound of a whistle being blown from the
battlement above them. Fafnir flung open the trap door and descended into the
dormitory, bellowing, `To arms! To arms! They have returned!` He secured the
trap door, and griping his magical silver blade in one hand, and adjusting the
magical shield in the other, hurried down the stairs to the level below to hold
the door. Celceor, leaping out of his bedroll, grabbed his bow and rushed to
the open window to see what was approaching. From across the courtyard five
tattered robed creatures approached. The lead one, holding a large black mace,
shrieked out orders. Quickly pulling out an arrow, Celceor fired at the lead
creature, but only grazed the creatures robe. The creature, looking up,
shrieked and the group quickened their pace. Celceor, loosed another arrow.
This one struck the lead creature in the middle of the chest. The creature not
even slowing, plucked the arrow from its rotten body and discarded into the
snow without missing a beat. In the distance a second group could be seen.
These creatures started climbing the ladder leading to the wall and following
it around, would be upon the upper battlements in a few moments. Celceor turned
to the group inside who were hurriedly moving about grabbing weapons and gear,
`We got company!'
Nick, pulling out his sling and a pocket full of stone, likewise took up a
position at a window and proceeded to hurl stones at the incoming creatures.
Werkle, did likewise with his crossbow and assaulted the approaching enemy.
Most fire either missed or was ineffective, though one stone did strike one of
the robed creatures causing it to cringe . Meanwhile, Farnir was making all
sorts of noises down below and Celceor could have sworn he heard him
rearranging the rooms furniture. Looking over his shoulder he saw Bane, the
half elf rogue, coat the stairs to the trap door, with not one, but two flasks
oil. Werkle, examining the sharpness of his blade, took up position at the
bottom of the stairs, looking for payback for being mauled earlier on those
very stairs. Well, if the fire doesn't get them, at leas the oil may tie them
up or worse, slide them right into Werkle's waiting blade, Celceor thought.
Well, it appeared the party had a sound plan. Hopefully it would go off without
a hitch.
Suddenly there was a loud thumping on the door below as the beasts, having
arrived, were slamming their decaying bodies into it in an attempt to bring it
down. However the heavy oak door held sound. Whatever Fafnir was doing down
there, it seemed to be working. Nick meanwhile continued to sling at the beast
from the window right above the door. Seeing this was an optimum time for a
greek fire bomb, Celceor pulled out a small rag and quickly stuffed it into his
last vial of oil. Striking his flint against the piece of steel, he ignited the
rag and poking his head out the window when nick paused to reloaded his sling,
dropped the flaming vial upon the heads of the creatures below. Scoring a
direct hit on the leader, the flask burst into flames and bits of glass
catching the robe of the leader on fire while singeing those around him with
hot ambers. The leader swirled about trying to extinguish the flames. This,
Celceor thought, unlike his arrows did seem to bother this hellish creature.
Unfortunately, he was all out of oil. Though he did get lucky, as many times
that trick doesn't always work and either the flame goes out, or the flask
doesn't break. Getting it to work just right each time is an art. One which
Celceor had yet to perfect.
Just as he began to think that this would turn into a fish in a barrel thing,
Celceor's heart stopped as there was a load crash followed by a piercing scream
from across the room. Looking over he saw a wereghoul had burst open one of the
shuttered windows and had ripped a big bloody hole in one of the unfortunate
civilians standing next to it. Panic the kids and civilians ran in all directions
trying to escape the creature and trying to find some spot in the room which
they believe would be safe. Celceor instructed them to stay near the center of
the room away from the windows as he and other party members rush over to deal
with the new threat. At the same time, loud thumping could be heard at the trap
door above the party. The other group of creatures had finally arrived and was
trying to find a way in.
Bent, the dwarfish bard, being the closest started casting a spell, though amid
all the commotion in the room mixed the portions of reagents incorrectly and
the spell fizzled. Running on fumes as far as magic, Celceor threw what he had
left. He waving his arms and shot the creature with a small splash of acid,
which only sizzled a bit on the creatures thick hide. The wereghoul, either
annoyed at the acid, or having gotten what it wanted, grabbed the limp body of
his victim and proceeded to back out the window, where a rope dangled. The
rope, Celceor surmised was likely used to get the wereghoul to the window ledge
from the battlement above.
Bent on seeing this, lunged after the creature in an attempt to slow it, but
luckily for him, missed, as the wereghoul may have paralyzed him as well, and
taken the both of them. The wereghould paused and chuckled as it dropped its
victim out the window to its certain death below. Wryan, having arriving at the
window from across the room, didn't find it funny and lunged into the beast
with her magical spear. The thrust hit the creature in the shoulder which
started leaking greenish goo. The creature, now wounded attempted to escape by
climbing down the rope, but as it turned, the spear maiden once again quickly
thrust her spear into the creature. This impaled the hideous thing through the
back, and the creature dangling in mid air,
suddenly went limp. With a flick, the creature was thrown from the spear and
landed hard into a snow bank some ten feet below the window.
Suddenly the trap door burst open and two robed wereghouls jumped down the trap
door and quickly descended the stars into the dormitory. Though before they
could reach the bottom stair, Bane threw the lit torch had been holding onto
the staircase and the area erupted into flames. Encased in fire the robed
creatures failed about, shrieking in pain. Werkle holding the bottom of the
stairs, smashed one hard, but only did only minor damage. Looking his weapon
over, he tossed it aside and pulled out a much large version with a big smile.
Seeing the creature flailing about, Bent decided to try to trip them up and
with a wave of his hand cast a grease spell at the closest creature, but to no
apparent affect. Pulling his bow, Celceor fired into the whirling flaming
creatures, but failed to hit its mark. Having now secured the window, Wryan
rushed over and thrust her spear into one the flaming creatures dropping it
unto the flaming staircase. The last one, attempting to flee back up the trap
door to escape the flames, met a similar fait, as Bane lunged forward and
pieced it with his thin weapon. The creature dropped to the floor in a burnt
and bloody heap.
At the opposite end of the building, it seemed the robed creatures and their
hellish leader could not get through the lower door fafnir was holding. Nick
continued to sling out the window unto their head, shouting, `hey, I got one!!'
Eggo, looking over Nick's shoulder, raised his holy symbol and commanded the
vile creature to depart. The presence of Pelor was too much and all of the
robed figures except the one with the mace fled back across the snow. The
leader on seeing his forces either dead or fleeing, gave off a long shriek then
reluctantly turned and slowly started trudging back toward the dark tower.
Bane, Shouted out the window `yeah, not talking anymore shit without all your
friends, now are ya!?'
Suddenly from around the right side of the building, another robed weregoul
appeared. Though this one was dragging the unfortunate civilian's body that had
been hurled out the window. Celceor, pointed and shouted, `Bring him down!!'.
At which point Nick, Werkle, and he proceeded to pelt the creature with stones,
bolts and arrows. After dragging the body a mere fifteen feet the creature
dropped face down into the snow, having succumbed to the savage barrage of
missile fire.
The hellish leader with the mace, on seeing this, and likely hearing Bane,
trudged over to the body kicking the fallen wereghoul out of the way. Staring
up at the party members he issued a long hiss, as he grabbed the civilian by
the leg and started dragging the body through the snow. Despite being pelted by
all sorts of projectiles, the hellish creature just continued undaunted.
Stopping at the tower doorway it held up the lifeless corpse in one arm as if
some sort of trophy and roared at the party in triumph. Surely something more
than just arrows and stones will be needed to bring this unnatural brute to its
knees.
The battle was over, at least for now. The party had lost one civilian, but no
one else was harmed. Though a good number of the robed creatures would no
longer be bothering the party. Fafnar, returning from where he had disappeared
had seemly missed yet another major battle. Celceor was beginning to wonder if
the barbarian was planning on actually fighting at all.
After some discussion it was decided that the party should move to the small
lower room as it had only one entrance which could be protected much easier
than the large room with all the windows and doors, one of which was now busted
open. In addition, the room stairwell had been burnt out and room was filling
with smoke. Werkled agreed that the plan made sense, though Nick was
uncomfortable with staying in a room witch only one exit. Though it appeared
the party really had no choice, as the upper room was no longer defendable.
So with that the whole group moved to the lower room and the door was locked
and barricaded. Fafnir again choose to take watch hoping to get in on some
action, while the rest party tried to get some sleep. Celceor set his owl out
atop the building to once again to keep an eye on the courtyard below. As it
was, there was no way to see them coming this time around so Rune would
literally be their eyes. With that Celceor pull his winter blanket over her
shoulder and once again tried to get some sleep.
It was not long before the owl once again awoke Celceor, who immediately jumped
to his feet, and shouted that the enemy was once again approaching in number.
These things were relentless he thought. The owl fearing for its safety and
being uncomfortable around the undead, flew off to a safe distance. The party
then readied their weapons and waited behind the barricaded door, anticipating
that the ghouls would start bashing their way in at any moment.
Suddenly, to the party's amazement, a shadowy hand reached right through the
door and the room turned an icy cold. Eggo froze solid, as the ghostly creature
in the horned helm burst into the room passing effortlessly through the solid
door and swiped at Fafnir with its twisted icy claws. Ready for some action at
last, the barbarian dodged, then darted back and hit hard with his magically
silver blade. The shadowy creature screeched in pain but continued its
approach. Bent started into a song, as nick pulled the children and civilians
back into the room as far as he could, fearing he could not harm this creature
with only his sling. Bain pulling his last vile of holy water lobed it at the
creature, but missed, smashing it upon the door behind the creature. Celceor,
attempting to get the cleric back on his feet pulled out some rags and ointment
and tried attending to the clerics wounds, but unfortunately not having any
training in dealing with frost bit, could not aid him. Wryan, with fire in her
eyes was looking for some payback for being made into a puppet and charge into
the hideous creature with her magical spear. It pierced deep causing the
shadowing creature to recoil in pain. Fafnir, having
worked himself in a savage rage, charge and sliced deep into the chest of the
shadowy creature. The creature reeling from the onslaught of blows, or possibly
the bards singing, quickly withdrew back through the solid oak door immediately
warming the room back to normal.
Bane, on seeing the fury in barbarians raging eyes decided to clear the stuff
out of the way of the door before the barbarian just smashed right through it.
Celceor, believing they would need the cleric if they were actually thinking of
pursuing the wounded creature, poured his last healing potion down the cleric
throat, reviving the unconscious priest. Werkel, flung open the door and rushed
out into the snow, followed right behind by the raging barbarian. Though to
their disappointment they did not see the wounded shadowy creature. Instead,
all they saw were a small group of robed wereghouls fleeing back to the tower.
Needing to kill something, Fafnir charged into the rear ranks of the robed
group, dropping one creature as it scurried up the steps to the tower, with a
huge slash across its back. The barbarian then countered by following through
into the side of the creature next to it, and cut a huge gash in its side
dropping it along side the first. The remaining
creatures quickly darted into the tower and disappeared into the darkness.
Fafnir having no light, paused on the doorway catching his breath while peering
into the darkness. The party on catching up with him took a pause. While the
creature was indeed wounded the party was currently in their under garments,
and out of spells, and they knew not what might be lurking in the lower levels
waiting for them. So considering themselves lucky they retuned to the barracks
and once again tried to get some needed rest.
Fortunately the enemy wounded and battered had finally had enough for one
night, and left the party alone.As morning dawned, Celceor breathed a sigh of
relief. It had been one long draining night. The endless night was over. On
awaking, Eggo receiving Pelors blessings was granted a number of improved
spells and healed a few of the wounded party members. Celceor took a majority
of Magic Missiles spells just to be sure that he would be able to hit those
evil creature, as well as his old standby summon spell. Because, hey, you never
know when you might need a Mr Chips at your side.
The party, now battle readied, stood at the tower doors. Celceor cast a light
spell upon Fafnirs shield with a wave of his hand, and with that the party
started its long decent into the dark depths of the haunted tower.....
but that my friend, is another story...