A Stitch In Souragne
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Zumba opens his eyes, alarmed. Suddenly, it all seemed so strongly a scene back from his past. He touches the ground around him, looking for his staff. If he finds it, he holds it fiercely, and this seems to give him more confidence. He steps up cautiously, looks around and without a word learns what ever he can see. He tries to identify where the drumming is coming from, but attracted by the mysterious statue, he steps slowly, one small step at a time, in its direction, totally on guard, ready to strike at any attack that might come from the shadows.
Although he can not see the drummers, the sounds are familiar to him. He heard them many times before. But not in this situation. And although ceremonies to the loah were always rituals that commanded some amount of fear, this particular one made him tingle from head to toe. There was something wrong here. He kept going for the statue, moving as silently as possible, trying to understand the figure before the voodans noticed him.
Although he can not see the drummers, the sounds are familiar to him. He heard them many times before. But not in this situation. And although ceremonies to the loah were always rituals that commanded some amount of fear, this particular one made him tingle from head to toe. There was something wrong here. He kept going for the statue, moving as silently as possible, trying to understand the figure before the voodans noticed him.
Zumba d'Oxossi (A Stitch in Souragne)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
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Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Goren:
You stand defiant, your mace raised high as the zombies approach... and when it comes down, it halts the first creature in its tracks. All the stitches pop loose at once, and to your shock and horror, you realize that the zombie has the same face and frame as Vincent... Blood spurts from the wound you dealt your companion and he collapses at your feet, a boneless heap. Before you can recover from the shock, another zombie rakes its claws at you, and your weapon seems to move by itself, smashing the moving corpse away from you. Again, a hideous transformation. Zumba sags to his knees, blood spurting from his crushed skull, his mouth moves without making a sound, and then he is gone like Vincent before him. A third zombie comes for you, your weapon moves as though alive – and you are faced with a young woman you have never met before. As soon as you see her alive, she is dead.
Now you stand alone. Silence reigns about you. Looking around, you see only the zombies, staggering out of the house and trooping towards the open road. Or no… There is something else you see as well. A lone figure, limping away into the house’s back yard, struggling for every step.
(OOC: Please welcome our latest player, Higginz, whose character Jazelle is in the same dream-place as Vincent…)
Vincent:
The singing leads Vincent to what appears to be the central hall of worship in this Church of Ezra. Sentire Lefebvre had not required any of you to visit the hall and join in evening prayer, so you have not seen the place before.
The hall is… grand. A massive statue of Ezra, made out of white marble dug out of the Balinoks, dominates the room. It stands against the far wall, behind an altar of black marble with a green cloth over it. Benches of precious hardwood, purchased from Valachan, stand in rows centred on the altar.
Are there worshipers in the pews? Vincent can not be certain. There are… movements, the singing must be coming from somewhere, glimpses of white robes seen out of the corner of his eye, but when he looks directly at a pew, it appears empty.
There is definitely a priest, however. Clad from head to toe in white cloth with a broad, green border, his face anonymous behind folds of the rich cloth, he stands atop the altar, a silver longsword in his hands. The priest sings the solemn chants of Ezra’s clergy, welcoming the faithful and calling for their attention. Calling their attention to the sacrifice about to be made.
Atop the altar, her body tied with green rope, is a young woman with bright red hair. The tip of the silver sword is held above her heart…
Jazelle:
Your sleep is disturbed by odd dreams. You went to sleep in a rented bed in one of Tarais d’Marascon’s more trustworthy establishments, and your meal was fine, but still your sleep is far from tranquil.
An odd voice whispers in your dreaming ear, a voice like the bark of some large canine trying to form words. Gradually, the voice changes into the strong, clear baritone of a practised performer. You recognize the song as a traditional hymn to Ezra, and it becomes more clear with every second.
Images finally appear in your dream. They are not pleasant ones.
In the dream, you are lying flat on your back on some hard surface. Green ropes bind your arms to your sides and hold your legs together, biting into your flesh. An Ezran priest, his face shrouded by his robes, stands over you with a silver longsword – and its point is held over your heart.
Zumba:
Zumba finds his staff in his hand, his knuckles whitening from their tight grip on the weapon. The drumming does not seem to have a source at first. No drummers sit within the building, no drummers dance around it. But then the young Capoeire realizes the source of the beat: it is the sound of his own heart, beating in time with the thunder of many more hearts. The experience is disturbing, to say the least.
As Zumba edges his way forward to get a look at the statue, the Voodan actually part, bowing to him. The statue rises up in all its grisly splendour. It stands seven feet tall, now the Voodan are no longer cavorting in front of it. Its face and body both are obscured by pieces of sackcloth. The sack covering the statue’s face is decorated, if that is the word for it, with two button eyes and a crude smile of thick thread.
“L’Homme Broché. The Stitched Man. But that is not the truth.”
You do not see any source for the vicious whisper in your ear. Sacrifices have been piled high in front of the statue; delicious fruits, cuts of choice meat, baubles of gold and jewels, rare spices won from the swamp. And images of the other Loah, their limbs broken, their faces turned into masks of agony with daubs of paint and stitchings.
One of the Voodan bows low to Zumba and offers him a sacrificial dagger. Another holds up a living child. It’s a little girl with the dark hair and skin of a Souragnien native. She is wriggling and crying in the Voodan’s grip, and it is obvious what the Voodan want Zumba to do.
“What is the truth?” that sinister whisper asks of Zumba. It is a woman’s voice, you think, full of anger and strength, but faint as a distant breeze.
You stand defiant, your mace raised high as the zombies approach... and when it comes down, it halts the first creature in its tracks. All the stitches pop loose at once, and to your shock and horror, you realize that the zombie has the same face and frame as Vincent... Blood spurts from the wound you dealt your companion and he collapses at your feet, a boneless heap. Before you can recover from the shock, another zombie rakes its claws at you, and your weapon seems to move by itself, smashing the moving corpse away from you. Again, a hideous transformation. Zumba sags to his knees, blood spurting from his crushed skull, his mouth moves without making a sound, and then he is gone like Vincent before him. A third zombie comes for you, your weapon moves as though alive – and you are faced with a young woman you have never met before. As soon as you see her alive, she is dead.
Now you stand alone. Silence reigns about you. Looking around, you see only the zombies, staggering out of the house and trooping towards the open road. Or no… There is something else you see as well. A lone figure, limping away into the house’s back yard, struggling for every step.
(OOC: Please welcome our latest player, Higginz, whose character Jazelle is in the same dream-place as Vincent…)
Vincent:
The singing leads Vincent to what appears to be the central hall of worship in this Church of Ezra. Sentire Lefebvre had not required any of you to visit the hall and join in evening prayer, so you have not seen the place before.
The hall is… grand. A massive statue of Ezra, made out of white marble dug out of the Balinoks, dominates the room. It stands against the far wall, behind an altar of black marble with a green cloth over it. Benches of precious hardwood, purchased from Valachan, stand in rows centred on the altar.
Are there worshipers in the pews? Vincent can not be certain. There are… movements, the singing must be coming from somewhere, glimpses of white robes seen out of the corner of his eye, but when he looks directly at a pew, it appears empty.
There is definitely a priest, however. Clad from head to toe in white cloth with a broad, green border, his face anonymous behind folds of the rich cloth, he stands atop the altar, a silver longsword in his hands. The priest sings the solemn chants of Ezra’s clergy, welcoming the faithful and calling for their attention. Calling their attention to the sacrifice about to be made.
Atop the altar, her body tied with green rope, is a young woman with bright red hair. The tip of the silver sword is held above her heart…
Jazelle:
Your sleep is disturbed by odd dreams. You went to sleep in a rented bed in one of Tarais d’Marascon’s more trustworthy establishments, and your meal was fine, but still your sleep is far from tranquil.
An odd voice whispers in your dreaming ear, a voice like the bark of some large canine trying to form words. Gradually, the voice changes into the strong, clear baritone of a practised performer. You recognize the song as a traditional hymn to Ezra, and it becomes more clear with every second.
Images finally appear in your dream. They are not pleasant ones.
In the dream, you are lying flat on your back on some hard surface. Green ropes bind your arms to your sides and hold your legs together, biting into your flesh. An Ezran priest, his face shrouded by his robes, stands over you with a silver longsword – and its point is held over your heart.
Zumba:
Zumba finds his staff in his hand, his knuckles whitening from their tight grip on the weapon. The drumming does not seem to have a source at first. No drummers sit within the building, no drummers dance around it. But then the young Capoeire realizes the source of the beat: it is the sound of his own heart, beating in time with the thunder of many more hearts. The experience is disturbing, to say the least.
As Zumba edges his way forward to get a look at the statue, the Voodan actually part, bowing to him. The statue rises up in all its grisly splendour. It stands seven feet tall, now the Voodan are no longer cavorting in front of it. Its face and body both are obscured by pieces of sackcloth. The sack covering the statue’s face is decorated, if that is the word for it, with two button eyes and a crude smile of thick thread.
“L’Homme Broché. The Stitched Man. But that is not the truth.”
You do not see any source for the vicious whisper in your ear. Sacrifices have been piled high in front of the statue; delicious fruits, cuts of choice meat, baubles of gold and jewels, rare spices won from the swamp. And images of the other Loah, their limbs broken, their faces turned into masks of agony with daubs of paint and stitchings.
One of the Voodan bows low to Zumba and offers him a sacrificial dagger. Another holds up a living child. It’s a little girl with the dark hair and skin of a Souragnien native. She is wriggling and crying in the Voodan’s grip, and it is obvious what the Voodan want Zumba to do.
“What is the truth?” that sinister whisper asks of Zumba. It is a woman’s voice, you think, full of anger and strength, but faint as a distant breeze.
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Goren is definitely unsure of how to proceed. Rather shocked from what is transpiring, he can't help but to look from his mace to the zombies then the corpses. There is the blood and gore as well. Frowning, he blinks to make sure he is seeing what he is seeing. Closing his eyes, he reopens them. Sighing, he realizes this is actually happening.
Why, why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this? Haven't I always served Lathander to my utmost capacities? Perhaps this Souragne is having a negative effect on my connection with the Morninglord? This bears some serious meditation on my part.
I will renew my efforts to serve Lathander, work harder to help these people in Souragne. It is a start.
Another disconcerting fact is how his mace seems to be working by itself. He wonders how this is possible. These thoughts are interrupted by the sight of the lone figure. Goren begins moving after it. He hopes he can intercept the figure. Given the fact that he is healthy and the form is limping, he feels luck on his side.
In the back of his mind is the woman he saw. Who is she? Is she important?
Concentrating slightly, he casts Hide From Undead so he might make it to the lone figure quicker.
Why, why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this? Haven't I always served Lathander to my utmost capacities? Perhaps this Souragne is having a negative effect on my connection with the Morninglord? This bears some serious meditation on my part.
I will renew my efforts to serve Lathander, work harder to help these people in Souragne. It is a start.
Another disconcerting fact is how his mace seems to be working by itself. He wonders how this is possible. These thoughts are interrupted by the sight of the lone figure. Goren begins moving after it. He hopes he can intercept the figure. Given the fact that he is healthy and the form is limping, he feels luck on his side.
In the back of his mind is the woman he saw. Who is she? Is she important?
Concentrating slightly, he casts Hide From Undead so he might make it to the lone figure quicker.
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Jazelle jerks and tosses in her sleep. In her dream, she is unable to move because she sense she has been bound. Above her she sees a man with a sword held over her heart. Although she is aware that this man is a cleric of Ezra, she is unable to discern any precise features of his face. She opens her mouth to scream, but her lungs fail her...
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
As Vincent takes in the scene, his mind starts racing. Immediately slipping to the side and extinguishing his candle. While moving as fast and quietly as he can he tries to remember the chants he has heard almost his whole life, although since he wasn't paying attention, it doesn't come naturally. Trying to figure out where exactly in the chant the mysterious man is, so that he knows how much time he might have to act.....assuming the man pierces the heart at the end of the chant.
The situation is very unusual, but he has seen many strange things in churches and cathedrals.
Vincent draws his weapon and looks around for any other objects lying around. Preferebly heavy.
The situation is very unusual, but he has seen many strange things in churches and cathedrals.
Vincent draws his weapon and looks around for any other objects lying around. Preferebly heavy.
Tresspassers will be shot......
Survivors will be shot again.
Survivors will be shot again.
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Certain that her life is about to end, Jazelle finally musters the strength to let out a scream. All the while, wild thoughts flash through her mind. All of her life she fought against the tyranny of men of the cloth, and she is about to die by the hand of one.
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Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Goren:
As fast as you run, the space between the limping figure and yourself seems to draw out longer and longer, the way it sometimes does in nightmares. You chase the lone being through a forest of cypresses, down to the edge of the swamp. A vile stench wafts towards you, stealing your breath as you approach.
A vicious whisper without a source stings your ear: "Find me. Find me."
There is a splash up ahead, and you see the creature you have been following tumble into the swamp. It starts to move away from you, paddling laboriously on top of a piece of driftwood. As you approach the edge of the swamp, you can see the figure is that of an old man in servant clothes. Bloody scratches crisscross his back, but he is alive and moving.
"Find me. Find me! Come to me come to me cometomecometomecometomeeee~!" the voice hisses. It is a feminine voice, barely audible, but full of authority.
Vincent & Jazelle:
Jazelle's scream is absorbed into the priest's chant. It is not extinguished, it simply... becomes part of the music, as if she is singing an accompaniment to the sonorous words of worship and sacrifice. The holy words are fast approaching their crescendo. A minute, perhaps two, and the blade is sure to come down.
As Vincent approaches the altar, he notices the heavy candelabras flanking it, as well as the great censers that send a cloud of fragrant smoke up to the vaulted ceiling. They're all priceless silver. And extremely heavy...
As fast as you run, the space between the limping figure and yourself seems to draw out longer and longer, the way it sometimes does in nightmares. You chase the lone being through a forest of cypresses, down to the edge of the swamp. A vile stench wafts towards you, stealing your breath as you approach.
A vicious whisper without a source stings your ear: "Find me. Find me."
There is a splash up ahead, and you see the creature you have been following tumble into the swamp. It starts to move away from you, paddling laboriously on top of a piece of driftwood. As you approach the edge of the swamp, you can see the figure is that of an old man in servant clothes. Bloody scratches crisscross his back, but he is alive and moving.
"Find me. Find me! Come to me come to me cometomecometomecometomeeee~!" the voice hisses. It is a feminine voice, barely audible, but full of authority.
Vincent & Jazelle:
Jazelle's scream is absorbed into the priest's chant. It is not extinguished, it simply... becomes part of the music, as if she is singing an accompaniment to the sonorous words of worship and sacrifice. The holy words are fast approaching their crescendo. A minute, perhaps two, and the blade is sure to come down.
As Vincent approaches the altar, he notices the heavy candelabras flanking it, as well as the great censers that send a cloud of fragrant smoke up to the vaulted ceiling. They're all priceless silver. And extremely heavy...
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Zumba's care doubles as he approaches the idol, and a feeling of apprehension begins to seep in as the voodans look at him almost reverently. His massive frame casts a shadow, alone in the middle of the room. Finally he stands before the statue and as he looks at the broken loah figures at its feet, all he can feel is contempt. Inside him he knows he hates that statue and all it represents.
Then the whisper comes... and he turns around. There's no one here to have said it. In turning around looking for the origin of the voice, he sees a man stretching a knife... and a girl. He wants him to kill her?
"Noooooo!!!!!!!" he cries loudly as bursting with rage, hatred and disgust he strieks boldly at the statue, on and on and on with his quarterstaff, hoping to destroy the evil he feels in it.
All at the same time, he hears again the whispered voice.
What is the truth?, it asks.
And he answers, poignantly and obsessively.
"No, no, no! I won'd do it. I'm not an agent of this evil!!! That is the truth! I am not this evil!"
Then the whisper comes... and he turns around. There's no one here to have said it. In turning around looking for the origin of the voice, he sees a man stretching a knife... and a girl. He wants him to kill her?
"Noooooo!!!!!!!" he cries loudly as bursting with rage, hatred and disgust he strieks boldly at the statue, on and on and on with his quarterstaff, hoping to destroy the evil he feels in it.
All at the same time, he hears again the whispered voice.
What is the truth?, it asks.
And he answers, poignantly and obsessively.
"No, no, no! I won'd do it. I'm not an agent of this evil!!! That is the truth! I am not this evil!"
Zumba d'Oxossi (A Stitch in Souragne)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Brother Eustace (The Devil's Dreams)
Robert de Moureaux (A New Barovia)
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
As Vincent approaches the scene, he sees the candlebras and de great censers. He quietly sheathes his weapon and takes one of the great censers by the chain, making sure the chain keeps tight to avoid noise. The chant seems to be ending soon. He still doesn't seem to fully comprehend the situation. A human sacrifice in a cathedral, added with a chant so loud everyone could hear. Something's wrong, why is he the only one here? Meanwhile he gets closer to the chanting man. When he feels he's close enough, he holds the cencer and makes simple motions with the censer to give it momentum. Not wanting to get caught in the act, he decides to hit the man with the censer right in the face, hoping the force will make him stagger back, along with his sword.
He swings with all his strength.
He swings with all his strength.
Tresspassers will be shot......
Survivors will be shot again.
Survivors will be shot again.
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Goren continues after the figure, the voice beckoning to him. As he continues, he calls out to the hissing voice "Who are you?"
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Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Goren:
The voice whispers a reply, then fades away on the sighing breeze: "I am Justice."
Something catches the priest's eye: three stones, larger than his head, which lie at the shore of the swamp. For a brief moment, they shine, but then dull back to a leaden grey. Just stones, their surface flattened. A cypress, its crown forked by some ancient calamity, is next to attain such brief illumination, then to dull back into normalcy.
The man in the swamp brightens, and the light spreads, filling your vision. Blinding you. When the light retreats, you find yourself outside a crude hut in a village. A drumbeat, insistent and somehow disturbing, fills your ears -- and then you hear Zumba inside, shouting at the top of his lungs. He does not sound happy, to say the least. Other sounds soon follow. Disturbing sounds.
(OOC: Goren has now entered the area of Zumba's dream.)
Zumba:
Zumba's staff strikes the masked statue, and the drums speed up, their beat becoming more powerful. One by one, the Voodan start to laugh. Slowly, picking up speed with every blow, the statue starts to move. Rising, the burlap sacks fluttering about its body, the statue somehow finds more length to add to its already imposing appearance. The thing, the Stitched Man, puts its hands on its hips and regards Zumba with its button eyes.
"You are mine if I say you are," a voice speaks. It is not like the woman's voice that hissed in Zumba's ear before. This voice is masculine, deep, powerful... and somehow dead. If an empty ucket could talk, or a worn-out old shoe, an object with no content and no practical use, it might have a voice such as this. Just hearing it makes you feel nauseous.
"I am the Master of the Land," the Stitched Man rumbles at you. "The Maiden of the Swamp will not save you from me. The Lord of the Dead cowers from me in terror. You have no other recourse. Ezra will not shelter you against me. My time is at hand and yours has ended. Only in complete b]obedience to me is there any chance of survival for you."
The hideous statue stretches out one of its wrapped hands towards you, hidden fingers splaying as it makes ready to seize and envelop your head...
(OOC: You do not have the impression that the feminine voice you heard before would have belonged to the Maiden of the Swamp. She is said to have a much more pleasant disposition.)
Vincent & Jazelle:
The censer flies in a picture perfect arc for the priest's face -- and he somersaults backwards, landing on his feet ten feet away from the altar. "Blasphemer," the masked man says, silver longsword held in front of him. "You can not stop what is happening here. No one can stop it. I will make her become real. I have to make her become real!"
The Cleric raises his sword and hands to the roof, his head raised as if in a transport of religious extacy. You probably have time to cut the girl on the altar loose, or you could attack him before he can re-gather his wandering thoughts.
The voice whispers a reply, then fades away on the sighing breeze: "I am Justice."
Something catches the priest's eye: three stones, larger than his head, which lie at the shore of the swamp. For a brief moment, they shine, but then dull back to a leaden grey. Just stones, their surface flattened. A cypress, its crown forked by some ancient calamity, is next to attain such brief illumination, then to dull back into normalcy.
The man in the swamp brightens, and the light spreads, filling your vision. Blinding you. When the light retreats, you find yourself outside a crude hut in a village. A drumbeat, insistent and somehow disturbing, fills your ears -- and then you hear Zumba inside, shouting at the top of his lungs. He does not sound happy, to say the least. Other sounds soon follow. Disturbing sounds.
(OOC: Goren has now entered the area of Zumba's dream.)
Zumba:
Zumba's staff strikes the masked statue, and the drums speed up, their beat becoming more powerful. One by one, the Voodan start to laugh. Slowly, picking up speed with every blow, the statue starts to move. Rising, the burlap sacks fluttering about its body, the statue somehow finds more length to add to its already imposing appearance. The thing, the Stitched Man, puts its hands on its hips and regards Zumba with its button eyes.
"You are mine if I say you are," a voice speaks. It is not like the woman's voice that hissed in Zumba's ear before. This voice is masculine, deep, powerful... and somehow dead. If an empty ucket could talk, or a worn-out old shoe, an object with no content and no practical use, it might have a voice such as this. Just hearing it makes you feel nauseous.
"I am the Master of the Land," the Stitched Man rumbles at you. "The Maiden of the Swamp will not save you from me. The Lord of the Dead cowers from me in terror. You have no other recourse. Ezra will not shelter you against me. My time is at hand and yours has ended. Only in complete b]obedience to me is there any chance of survival for you."
The hideous statue stretches out one of its wrapped hands towards you, hidden fingers splaying as it makes ready to seize and envelop your head...
(OOC: You do not have the impression that the feminine voice you heard before would have belonged to the Maiden of the Swamp. She is said to have a much more pleasant disposition.)
Vincent & Jazelle:
The censer flies in a picture perfect arc for the priest's face -- and he somersaults backwards, landing on his feet ten feet away from the altar. "Blasphemer," the masked man says, silver longsword held in front of him. "You can not stop what is happening here. No one can stop it. I will make her become real. I have to make her become real!"
The Cleric raises his sword and hands to the roof, his head raised as if in a transport of religious extacy. You probably have time to cut the girl on the altar loose, or you could attack him before he can re-gather his wandering thoughts.
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Goren frowns, unsure of this change of scenery. The three stones intrigue Goren and he approaches them with trepidation, unsure.
Then the drumbeat is heard and his attention is focused on the beat. Then more nonsense and the red haired priest goes on, sure he might figure out this odd passage.
The sounds from inside do sound disturbing but again, the priest might discover the reason. Goren keeps alert, eyes and ears ready.
Then the drumbeat is heard and his attention is focused on the beat. Then more nonsense and the red haired priest goes on, sure he might figure out this odd passage.
The sounds from inside do sound disturbing but again, the priest might discover the reason. Goren keeps alert, eyes and ears ready.
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Jazelle begins to writhe and toss frantically on the altar as she tries to free herself.
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2692766/
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2692766/
Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Not wasting any time, Vincent draws his rapier and cuts the woman loose as fast as he can. All the will keeping an eye on the man.
"Stop wriggling so much madame, it makes it harder".
When he has her loose, he helps her stand up if she can, on the other side of the alter. Vincent faces the man.
"Stop wriggling so much madame, it makes it harder".
When he has her loose, he helps her stand up if she can, on the other side of the alter. Vincent faces the man.
Tresspassers will be shot......
Survivors will be shot again.
Survivors will be shot again.
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Re: A Stitch In Souragne
Vincent & Jazelle:
Thanks to a combination of Jazelle's escape attempt and Vincent's blade, the ropes part and the young woman is freed! As soon as she moves off the altar, she can spot a small bundle lying behind it. Her equipment!
"No..." the priest whispers, his longsword raised in what looks almost like a salute. "No! For the greater glory of Her, she must die! You are not allowed to interfere!" With these unpleasant words, the priest charges you, booted feet slapping the marble tiles and something metallic clinking underneath his vestments as he rushes towards you. The silver longsword cuts an arc of light through the air. An arc aimed at Vincent's flesh. The blade cuts the air a bare inch in front of Vincent's face...
Ail & Goren:
There is an unearthly roar from inside, and a loud crashing as something knocks a big hole in one of the building's walls -- and out flies Zumba. The Souragnien rolls once, twice, and comes to a stop at Goren's feet. Through the hole in the wall, he can see a tall form, easily seven feet tall, wrapped in burlap sacks from head to toe. A crude face has been stitched onto the sack covering its head: two buttons and a downturned mouth of thread.
"You also are mine," the thing declares, levelling its malevolent gaze on the priest. "Whenever I choose to claim you."
(OOC: The Masked Priest attacks Vincent, rolls a 10, misses.
The DM apologizes for taking a liberty with Ail's character, but at least promises that Zumba has survived his throwing unharmed and apologizes by saying this was done to move the scene along. Goren is now face-to-face with L'Homme Broché...)
Thanks to a combination of Jazelle's escape attempt and Vincent's blade, the ropes part and the young woman is freed! As soon as she moves off the altar, she can spot a small bundle lying behind it. Her equipment!
"No..." the priest whispers, his longsword raised in what looks almost like a salute. "No! For the greater glory of Her, she must die! You are not allowed to interfere!" With these unpleasant words, the priest charges you, booted feet slapping the marble tiles and something metallic clinking underneath his vestments as he rushes towards you. The silver longsword cuts an arc of light through the air. An arc aimed at Vincent's flesh. The blade cuts the air a bare inch in front of Vincent's face...
Ail & Goren:
There is an unearthly roar from inside, and a loud crashing as something knocks a big hole in one of the building's walls -- and out flies Zumba. The Souragnien rolls once, twice, and comes to a stop at Goren's feet. Through the hole in the wall, he can see a tall form, easily seven feet tall, wrapped in burlap sacks from head to toe. A crude face has been stitched onto the sack covering its head: two buttons and a downturned mouth of thread.
"You also are mine," the thing declares, levelling its malevolent gaze on the priest. "Whenever I choose to claim you."
(OOC: The Masked Priest attacks Vincent, rolls a 10, misses.
The DM apologizes for taking a liberty with Ail's character, but at least promises that Zumba has survived his throwing unharmed and apologizes by saying this was done to move the scene along. Goren is now face-to-face with L'Homme Broché...)