Lord Skybolt wrote:alhoon wrote:Termelan is at first alarmed as the red-robed priestess takes control of the undead and sends them to surround Sir Gunnar. As he opens his mouth to shout for guards to help the knight and turn on the priestess, he sees that she actually sent the undead under her command to harmlessly go to the kitchen. Taking a moment to assess the situation he also saw that nobody else was surprised by this turn of events.ewancummins wrote: "Go back!"
The risen dead stagger away from her, moving around Gunnar and the door to crawl through the broken windows of the front room.
Evidently, everyone was more used to magic in this exotic land. And the cold, he reminded himself with a shiver as a gentle breeze momentarily picked up biting at his exposed hands.
As sir Gunnar proved his martial expertise again and his warriors secured the upper floors, Termelan cocked his crossbow again and tried to join the rest in the kitchen and the pantry. Avoiding to look at Safana's vaporous form, he turned to Gunnar and said "Sir Gunnar, with your permission, I would like to be the one carrying the torch."
"Yes take the torch and go down there and scout it out . Boy light a candle from that before he goes down there . I will need the light when I go down there to bust heads stay behind me though . Get club in your other hand though you may need it ." Sir Gunnar Commands of the link boy and the bard .
With lights and weapons raised, the raiders go down the cellar stairs...
..At the bottom, they find six hooded thugs gathered in the middle of a long, low ceilinged masonry room. The Crone moves behind the silent ranks of her minions, six in a tight huddle. A man in a hood moves next to her, with greater nimbless and speed than the undead upstairs displayed. He holds a burning candle up in his left hand, and carries a slim sword cocked over his right shoulder.
A quick look around the room shows tables, shelves, ingredients and supplies of various kinds, pots and pans and glass jars. It might be a kitchen, or maybe the workshop of an apothecary. It smells like a healer's medicine cabinet, but underneath the herbs and sweaat resins lingers a stench of decay. But the party has little time for a survey if it means to stop the Crone doing whatever she is doing.
The old woman scatters the contents of a chamberpot on her hooded warriors, stepping well back from the mess she makes. She glares at Gunnar and the others from behind her goons.
"Forward! Embrace them, my children!"