A Stitch in Souragne: The Siege of Lac Noir

[Ail]

OOC: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3845469/
save=23 - x
x: whatever is incurred for Zumba's current condition ( I think nauseated or sick)

Even if x = 4, this is eonugh to pass so I'll assume that.
------------------------
Zumba hears the wave coming, and attempts to get out of its way in the most expedient manner. At least, he thinks, to stay on foot. He holds to his staff, bracing himself with that, and readies to run as soon as the water goes through and he's got a view on his opponent.

[Ken of Ghastria]

Lucien pockets the just-returned crystal -- and scarcely has time to register the brackish flood's effect on his electrical wall before the same wave knocks him down! (OOC: Reflex save (1d20+4=8).)

Sputtering, yet still holding the crossbow, the red-haired half-elf stands up. Seeing his comrades still alive and still fighting fills him with unexpected feelings of pride and gratefulness. As the electrical wall begins to fizzle out and the two shapes within become visible again, he takes aim at the taller one, who seems to be the leader. He can now see ghost-like images of the cloaked figure - its past and future temporal phantoms, which indicate to Lucien which way his target will move in exactly one second from... NOW. He pulls the trigger.

__________________________________________
Minor: Pocket the psicrystal.
Move: Stand up from prone.
Standard: Fire at the Taller Figure with the light crossbow, aided by offensive precognition: Light crossbow attack (1d20+6=23).
Damage: 1d6=3.
Continuing: If the energy wall (electricity) still exists, then please see base damage as described in my previous post.
Remaining power points: 17.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Muck and ooze rain down, and the reek of decay fills your nostrils.

Worse than muck and ooze rain down, as you all feel ... things ... grasping at you.

As you blink away the filth, you find yourselves surrounded by the dead. Or rather, the undead.



The uneven struggle around Chicken Bone's cabin has ended, and the human/animal hybrids now just more corpses, joining the tattered remains of humans. Commoners and seinjeurs, all just barely recognizable by the rags that clothe them, all the strata of Souragnien society are represented.
And the rising waters have brought them to you.

Moaning, the monsters rise around you. Worse, some have lost... pieces.
Orda can feel something squirm in her hair, which turns out to be a finger.
Incongruously, there is a human eyeball on the end of Vincent's rapier, the pupil widening and contracting woodenly.
A zombie without legs snatches woodenly at Zumba's trousers to pull itself up.
Lucien finds himself bent double under a terrible weight; two corpses, their flesh fused, are half standing over him, half pushing him down.
All around Goren, pieces of dismembered flesh lie twitching.

(OOC: Those who wanted to cast spells or use powers, please make a Concentration check, DC15. Horror saves all around, DC10! Aren't you glad I'm back?)

The two Black Robes have been relatively spared; the water and its gruesome contents impacted with the Wall of Electricity, keeping them from being drenched in corpse pieces... but those same pieces lie all around them, smoking and writhing.

The smaller Black Robe is the first to react. She shrieks; a sound of very human horror.

Only for Zumba:

VIEW CONTENT:

(OOC: You suddenly feel a sensation of unreasoning panic in the back of your head. This does not affect you or your actions in any way, but you do feel it.)

Turning, the little Black Robe charges straight for the odd stone pillar, her taller companion at her heels... But the taller Black Robe is limping badly. It seems he took the Wall's full brunt, and he is hurting...!

(OOC: You guys are free to act, so long as you clear those Horror saves. I'm back, so ... Game on!)

[A G Thing]

Seeing the hordes of creatures around them and realizing that she almost lost herself in rushing the nearest one in a blinding flash of anger from the horrible scene around her, Orda pulls back on her rage just enough to halt her advance. Ripping and crushing the squirming digit from her hair she casts it violently aside and trembles with fury and savage but contained disgust. Cursing under her breath as she watches the dead begin to block her path, Orda screams in her native Voros with a barely contained primal fury as the witch and her cohort flee.

"I WILL REMEMBER THIS WITCH!"

She then turns away in frustration and begins a measured withdrawal with whatever haste seems needed back toward chicken bones supposed hut prepared to destroy any of these undead things that get in her way. She is eager in point of fact to strike at them hoping something gets in the way so she can vent her rage upon it in place of the fleeing woman. Still she does not want to test if she can take all of them so she will not risk getting surrounded.

On the way toward the hut, as she is watching all the potential dead threats, she gives very intense measured glances at each of these little people making her mood clear and the fact that she is aware of them and that she is ready and gives the barest nods of at least acknowledgement to Goren. As long as they don't interfere either she has nothing to say to them as she heads toward the hut but her sword resting but ready in her tight grip should tell them if they are wise what she did not say. It is not a threat, just a warning. Don't make her your enemy.

OOC: Note that if she sees Lucien in his predicament she will go to get rid of the undead upon him first, as she will not leave him to die that way.

[Ail]

OOC: horror roll: 1d20 = 7 + 6 = 13
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3916452/

Zumba is knocked by the force of the water, and the things that move in it. In other situations, he might have found them horrid... maybe even sent him nauseated into a corner. But after the macabre company they'd had earlier, it almost felt normal. Almost.

He gave a brief glance to the decomposed forms in the water, and then focused again on his enemies. He began to feel something new. Some new fear, some panic inside his head, some urgency he could not explain. He decided he must end this as soon as possible, for if that panic grows, he will no longer be master of his destiny.

He loses no time, he runs in the direction of the limping black robe and strikes him violently.

OOC: 1d20 = 13 + 7 (quarterstaff) = 20
Damage: 1d6 + 2 = 6
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3916464/

[Ken of Ghastria]

Lucien barely has time to pocket the bizarre crystal before the indescribable HORROR is upon him! In his mind, he hears Claude's voice: Lucien! Don't give in to fear! Concentrate!

He drops the crossbow and grips the bone wand, and then he concentrates with all his will on the following command to the undead around him:

We are friends of Chicken Bone! Attack the hooded ones! They hurt Chicken Bone!

-----------------------
OOC: Sorry for the delay. I'm assuming that any attempt at commanding the zombies is a standard action, but if there's a chance for Lucien to do something else, I'm all ears.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Cold dread slithers through Lucien's mind as he attempts to command the undead. The bone wand glows brightly in his fist, and he hears the un-voices drone through his head, threatening to sweep his thoughts away on a tide towards Madness... But the zombies do not even appear to be listening to him. A stronger voice, old but dignified, sweeps across the moaning, across Lucien's own even as it addresses him:
'You will not order around my slaves now. Be silent.'

The wand winks out... but the two zombies on top of Lucien rise and release him, shuffling after the Black Robes along with their fellows.


Orda finds the undead parting before her easily enough. In truth, they seem to be completely disinterested with her. The fog is still rolling in, but she can dimly perceive Chicken Bone's hut -- and the gris-gris dangling above its door as it swings open. Ghastly little creations made of animal bones, thread and bloodied feathers, they whirl and dance as the master of the house steps out onto his porch.


Chicken Bone is a native Souragnien man, old, but straight of back and shoulders. A simple, black robe swaths a thin frame, and alert, dark eyes stare out of a long-nosed face that does not seem to have the ability to smile. There are deep shadows under those eyes; weariness and hunger have clearly left the Voodan harrowed, but none of it diminishes his terrible dignity. The staff decorated with carvings and a small skull that Chicken Bone holds is clearly a tool, not a crutch. Not even now.


Zumba catches up to the larger Black Robe, and his quarterstaff cracks across its neck. There is a clearly audible Snap! - and the cultist falls flat on his face. Hideously, his body starts to jerk and vibrate as if in the grasp of an epileptic attack. Heels drumming and hands flailing blindly, the black-robed figure makes no attempt to rise.

The smaller Black Robe screams as if in agony...

For Zumba only:

VIEW CONTENT:

You feel a terrible, ripping agony shoot through your body, followed by a wave of crushing sadness. You are surprised not to find blood or tears spilling out of you. The pain soon recedes, but it is followed by blinding rage at the back of your head.

... but does not stop. "The Great Lord eat out your eyes and burn your bones!" she screams -- and she slaps a hand against the stone pillar.

For Zumba only:

VIEW CONTENT:

For a moment, all the other feelings are overwhelmed by a rising bliss, as if you were sipping pure, honeyed life -- and then the taste curdles in your mouth, as if the honey were being run through a festering midden.

The pillar and the smaller Black Robe -- start to fade. Zombies closing in snatch at the small figure, who flinches, but never releases her hold on the intricately-worked stone. None of their claws are able to touch her before she is simply... gone, along with the pillar. There is not even an indentation in the ground where it stood, not a trace that it was ever real.

For a moment more, the zombies mill uncertainly. Then they start to turn to the only living beings left, tongues lolling out of jaws riddled with decaying teeth, rotting claws rising to snatch and throttle...


"Enough."

The voice is soft, but strong. Before it, the undead fall back, moaning as they bow themselves out of Chicken Bone's way.

You find the old Voodan striding out of his house, surrounded by the lumbering corpses, his cold eyes taking you all in.

"I seem to find myself in your debt."

[Ail]

Zumba falls to the ground, oblivious to the rest of the world. He is facing upwards, looking with absent eyes at the canopy above. Whatever might cross his line of sight, bird, man or zombie, is all the same to him... he sees nothing.

His mouth is agape, while he tries to calm his mind.... or even to remember who he is. He feels like someone is stealing at his mind, that something inside, or someone, wants to break free. He makes a desperate attempt at sanity. A distant voice calls 'Enough'. Then says something his mind does not register.

He does not move... simply waits. He wades in confusion through all the sensations inside him, escaping from one to the other, looking for stability where he can find none... once again feeling the small slave child on his first attempt to escape, scared in the middle of the other adults as the sounds in the night betrayed the presence of the seijeur, his servants, their dogs and their lashes, looking around him from the blackness of the night to the darkness of the trees, never guessing whence the first blow would fatally fall...

At last, he recedes into a tiny spot inside his mind, and gathers his last resolve to issue a prayer to the Maiden.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Only for Zumba:

VIEW CONTENT:

Darkness falls, and for a moment, you seem to be hovering in a vast and terrible void.

A rushing sound fills your mind - the whispering of green leaves in a Spring breeze, when all the swamp seems to be in bloom. Cool waters seem to bear you up, and you feel a gentle touch on your brow. The pain in your mind fades to a dull throb at the edge of your consciousness. Someone is hurting, someone is carved by sorrow, someone is raging with hatred, someone is terribly afraid... Whoever it is, they are clearly messed up inside, crazed with some terrible want, a covetousness that can not be satisfied.

"But that is not you."

The voice is gentle and caring, though it carries traces of deep and abiding sorrow. Its strength is greater than the sadness, however. It is a voice that soothes you and gives you hope, replenishes your strength.

"I would do more for you if I could, child. But I can not. You have a debt that must be repaid, and you are not before my mortal self."



Again, a great rushing fills your mind, but this is the rushing of great wings, approaching from the distance. It is the roar of the storm, which lifts those wings up and tears soft and growing things from the branch.

"Remember, my mortal self will help you!" the gentle voice cries out to you, even as it fades away on the oncoming storm. "And the debt you owe is a righteous one! She only wants you to return the service...!"



The storm is around you. It is not gentle, but it pulls you up out of the morass of darkness, slams you back on your feet -- metaphorically speaking. If the first presence was like a gentle mother, soothing your aches and pains, the second one is like a drill sergeant, slapping you around and forcing raw rum between your teeth to put a goodly fire in your belly and getting you moving.

Wings. Great wings, beating the air, and the stench of a fox's den surrounds you.

"I only want what I am due," a second voice snarls at you, guttural and harsh. "I want what I gave you. Free me."

The harshness of the voice gives you a little difficulty in understanding that it is a request, at first, but the truth trickles into your mind. This rough presence is asking for your help.

For a moment, you are a younger man, lying in a hut, your back on fire and your wrists and ankles tightly shackled. Your blood, trickling into the earth, your sweat and tears mingling in your eyes as you hear yourself whisper: "Is this supposed to be justice?"

"No," you hear the voice, echoing out of the past. "It is not."

The shackles opened and you ran, and you forgot. But now... you remember.

"Free me," the rough voice rasps, and you see a horrible thing in the darkness.

Its body is female in outline, though most of it is hidden beneath a black robe. A grey cloak, like the one worn by La Ste. Mère des Brûmes, lies draped over her shoulders. Great vulture's wings, broken and partially plucked, hang from her shoulders, and the creature's face is that of a giant fox, one of her eyes plucked out and many of her teeth broken by some terrible violence.

The creature lies shackled, as you were shackled, and it has clearly been tortured.
The monstrous being raises its fox's face to you and whispers, its breath smelling of the clean scent that comes after the rain. "Zumba. Free me."


The darkness parts -- and you find yourself back at the shore of Lac Noir. The external sensations have been banished to a tight knot at the back of your head, and you feel... refreshed.

[steveflam]

Goren begins chanting his spell, but the pieces of Zombies in the muck around him disturb the concentration needed and the spell fails miserably. He can only watch all around him what is transpiring until it looks ot be finally over. Then he see the old man and is hopeful that this is
indeed Chicken Bone.

He walks slowly towards the elder man before looking and seeing if his companions are in need of health assistance. "Is all the people correct? Moi help you if toi needed mon cures."

[A G Thing]

Orda frustrated but restrained avoids the dead as they seemingly back away. She also only halts when she notices the odd figure emerge from the hut. She watches the scene play out as the man who appears to possibly be this Chicken Bone strides out and then with surprising ability one of these other men takes out the larger of the two routed black robed figures. As the man spasms and the dead chase the soon to vanish smaller black robed witch she wonders if this man is controlling them. While she desired combat and a proper vent for her anger she is uncertain now if it would be honorable to do such for one who may control the dead.

She watched as he calmly commanded the dead to do as he bid and all the while she wonders what sort of man she was here to aid.

As the others mill about and try to sort themselves the man who had been nearest her in the battle begins to mumble more words to his magics. He looks at them then mumbles in his heavy accent something about cures or such... She however does little more than watch Goren with her careful and yet also cold eyes just a bit more than she does the others. She still knows nothing of them and it shows in her stance that she trusts them only so far.

She does nothing else until the elder man before them all speaks. Her attention then moves to him but not so much as to forget the others entirely.

He speaks of a debt he owes them, and though she was there, she was not pledged to service for him yet nor did she do more than put herself into his fight when it became hers. Still unsure of who he even truly is she speaks to answer...

"I speak not for them... But so far, you owe nothing to me... Still, are you the one called Chicken Bone?"

[Rock of the Fraternity]

"I am he," the Souragnien confirms, looking Orda straight in the eye. "Do you come to bargain?"

[steveflam]

Goren is very curious about this Frost Giant. What is one doing here, in this humid land? He has sop many questions he would like answered yet doesn't know where to begin. He watches Chicken Bone and Orda with more than curiosity. Throwing away his initial unease, he speaks
to Chicken Bone as well as Orda.

"Pardonnez moi. Please moi.... Uh.... Nous are here to search for Man Chicken Bone. Je, I thinking you he?" He looks at the elder man and smiles shyly. And not wanting to be rude, but curiosity gets the better of him he addresses Orda.

For A G Thing

VIEW CONTENT:

"Please forgive my rudeness, but I have never met a Frost Giant before. I am so sorry for my rudeness. I am Goren, just Goren, of the Temple of the Morninglord Lathander in Waterdeep. I am curious as to know what a Frost Giant does here on this tropical island."

OOC: Goren is speaking the common tongue of the Forgotten Realms to Orda.

[A G Thing]

Noticing she is not the only one looking for the man she watches the others who also ask the same question. She sees the same short one ask such and after the answer he seems to want to speak to her for some reason.

Orda going over what is said then speaks back to the elder Chicken Bone when he responds.

"I am Orda Korskir. I came to find mainly an honorable fight and maybe some coin... I am tired of lifting dull crates and getting scraps for it..."

It is then that the other one also tries to speak to her...

For Goren though Orda speaks loudly enough so others feel free to look as well.

VIEW CONTENT:

The man again seems to look her way and after getting her attention he tries to speak to her somewhat apart from the others... His tongue begins to spout gibberish and she looks at him puzzled and perhaps more wary as she wonders if he is casting some spell. The heat is now also getting noticably more humid and it is making her more uncomfortable by the minute. As he stops and his somewhat gentle tone shifts she looks at him even more confused and now frustrated as she is unsure whether or not to lessen her grip on her blade.

"Do you mock me? What are you speaking little man? I have little pati... pa... Speak clearly!" She says this in fairly clear Sourangian though her odd accent is quite thick and she has a few words she seems to stumble on... She stares down at him with her attention now somewhat divided.

OOC: Note that if anyone knows Voros her accent is quite pronounced... Also I am assuming that Voros has no familiar structure with the forgotten realms common so unless you say otherwise Rock I assume she does not know what Goren is saying.

[steveflam]

Goren is clearly embarassed, somewhat flustered. He responds in his broken Souragnien "I... I ..... Sorry.... I have thoughts, you is Giant .....Cold Giantess,,,, non... non,,,,, Frost Giantess. One thousand pardons.... I forgiving please. I is Goren... Just Goren. I is," he holds his holy symbol to emphasize "Priest of Lathander, Lord of Morning. Where I living, is many Giants Frost, but they living in cold place, not in humid like here. I blunt, sorry. I guessing you not a Frost Giant. Is just, I never metted one before who is helpful. Well this what I read in book anyways." He looks down, clearly dejected by how he must appear to this person as well as Chicken Bone.