Tide of Shadows

[SirNitram]

"...And now it's run away again." Volemack sagged. "You know, there might've been answers? I mean, I'm not good at talking to scared people, but.. I mean.. Was that the best move?"

[rhoenix]

"Well," said Fehl as he shrugged, "it worked, I suppose. Thanks, Father. So, onward," he said, resuming his search of the town, beginning with the church.

[Academia Nut]

Opening the left hand door of the two on the church, Fehl was immediately hit by a wave of wet, rotten air, the effects of about fifty people all crammed into the little building, sitting quietly in the pews, decomposing in the moist summer air.

[Fehl, make a DC 18 fortitude saving throw or be naseuated for 1d6 rounds. Success indicates you are instead sickened for one round]

The stench and the bodies were not the only thing contained within, for suspended from the rafters was a still body, its neck bent at an odd angle by that which connected it to the ceiling. Something stirred about the body, but did not disturb its motionless rest. With the door now open, the hushed whispers of the thing were now audible, guilty, mad whispers that wormed their way into the ears of all those who could hear it, sapping the will to do anything but listen to its insane sermon.

[Everyone but Eight, who is still running and is far away, make a DC 16 will save or be fascinated for 2d4 rounds as if you had hypnotism cast on you.]

[rhoenix]

Feeling sickened by the sudden stench, Fehl nonetheless succumbed to the mad whispers of the strange creature, and stood motionless in the doorway.

(EDIT: I somehow mis-spelled "sickened" and didn't catch it until now - oops)

[Rogue 9]

"She'll be back," Bartel said to the squire. "We needed time to regroup, so I bought it. I doubt she's through with us."

Then Fehl opened the door.

The maddening whispers assaulted Bartel's mind, the cleric fighting the insidious suggestions before winning out. Seeing Fehl freeze, he feared the worst, and rushed to the church door.

[Fortitude save vs. the stench]

[Academia Nut]

Screaming madly, the dark figure swooped down from where it seemed to spend its time, its voice continuing to chatter, spilling forth damnable words that hurt the ears to listen to and yet still had a damnable cadence and rhythm that drove one to distraction.

Lashing out, it caught Fehl right in the head, its flailing limb catching Fehl right in the head and passing right through. The creature did not seem to notice that it was incorporeal, but even though no physical damage was done, Fehl's mind was given a glimpse into the horrors that filled the pathetic creature's existance. A shard of the thing's final moments filled his mind, of stepping off the rafter in front of the terrified audience, a sneering face nearby, and the flickering shadows that covered the walls. The feeling of weightlessness for a moment as the world fell away, followed a second later by a sudden force up and a horrific crack.

Then screaming. So much screaming.

Fehl had seen the act that had created this creature, a glimpse into the madness that motivated it, and it indellibly stained his mind, infecting him with the same sort of insanity.

[Rogue 9]

Bartel knew the allip for what it was, and knew what grim fate awaited them if it wasn't stopped. He grabbed a heavy bag hanging from the lowest part of his bandolier.

"Saint Cuthbert, I consecrate this hallowed hall in your name," he said as he threw the silver dust into the sanctuary, the silver powder spilling out of the bag and scattering around the room briefly before being consumed in the spell.

[Consecrate. If the altar is intact, turning checks in the area gain a +6 bonus and undead take -2 on attacks, damage, and saves. If the altar has been destroyed, these bonuses are cut in half.]

[LadyTevar]

Ceridwen couldn't move, just as frozen by the maddening whispers as Fehl.

[SirNitram]

Whispers of madness sloshed into Volemack's mind. The problem was that they were alien madness; the madness of humans, perhaps, not of dragons. Or perhaps Bahamut simply decreed this would Not Be So. It mattered little. This thing had Hurt Auntie!

The 'squire' leapt into battle with both sets of claws, roaring a challenge.

[Academia Nut]

Squealing in anger as the squire laid into it, although only connecting with the magic of his gauntlets once, the allip thrashed its limbs into Volemack, infecting him with its madness and undoing the damage inflicted, the partion of Volemack's mind chipped off in the exchange of terrible memories strengthening its form.

Volemack saw a partially obscured face, cloaked in shadows, standing next to him, grinning broadly, the figure's hand in his shoulder, but nothing seemed wrong or out of place.

[Rogue 9]

Bartel cursed under his breath. Something was wrong. The consecration hadn't worked.

Someone would pay for defiling the temple.

But it would have to wait. For now, driving the allip away without consecrated ground to rely on was too dangerous. He took an alternate route.

"Mace of Cuthbert, smite thine enemy!" A mace of pure force sprang into existence before the allip, taking a swing even as it sprang into existence.

Spiritual weapon

[SirNitram]

Claws didn't work! The thought flashed through Volemack's harried mind. But that was okay, wasn't it? You had something for times when claws didn't work. Focus, wait, let the thing give you a zone of fire where you wouldn't hit your allies...

Volemack drew breath in, and exhaled. Ice crystals and a bone-bleaching winter wind whipped out of his mouth in a cone.

[3d8 cold damage, Ref 18 for half damage. ]

[Charon]

Eight slowly came to a stop, certain now that he was far away from the screeching horror. The construct shuddered a few times before looking back at the town. Slipping his spyglass out of it's container the construct looked quickly over the town to try and spot where the others were now and what was happening.

[rhoenix]

Though the...whispers about faith and flesh and bone and rot still echoed in his mind without stopping, Fehl at least found he could try focusing on other things now. Upon seeing the undead thing that had been whispering to him, his response was to start yelling a stream of highly-offensive epithets, and launch a cone of roaring flames from his hand at the undead horror.

(Used standard action to cast Burning Hands at the allip: 5d4 fire damage, reflex save for half damage)

[Rogue 9]

Bartel looked back over his shoulder. Lady Ceridwen was frozen, staring in seeming shock. He knew what it probably meant, and, seeing that he couldn't effectively squeeze in to hit the allip, left his spiritual weapon to its work and ran back to see if he could get her to come to.

"Milady, don't let it hold your mind!" Approaching the paladin, he took her by the shoulder and gave her a hearty shake. "Madness lies that way!"

Spiritual Weapon

[Academia Nut]

The allip twisted and squealed mostly out of the path of the fire but was caught full on by the cone of blizzard winds. Unfortunately, both waves of destruction passed harmlessly through it. The weapon of force however connected solidly with its form, blasting a chunk of it into vapour. Wheeling about upon Volemack, it plunged its hand deep into his head as if it were trying to punch through.

Volemack felt the desperation, and the need to obey the sinister voice whispering from the shadows, "Jump and you will save them" and the utter, mad belief that the voice could be trusted.

[LadyTevar]

Ceridwen blinked out of the magical trance, looking first to Bartel, then looking for ...

"VOLEMACK!" It was both a guardian's frightened scream and a warcry as the Paladin shoved past Bartel, bullrushing the ghost she could clearly see was attacking her ward, and bringing the warpick down in a deadly overhead strike. (SMITE EVIL)

[rhoenix]

Still continuing in his rather loudly inventive tirade against the undead creature, Fehl was just beginning to offer conjecture about how it became undead, its preferences, its normal habits, its sleeping places, and its preferred prey - with none of it being complementary by any conceivable stretch of the imagination.

As he did so, a glowing, sparking red rock shot out of his hand at high speed, and raced directly toward the undead creature.

[Charon]

Eight saw the sparks and explosions that signaled combat, and so the giant construct ran back towards the town. Unharnessing his great axe and preparing it.

[SirNitram]

Jump, and you will save them. Volemack's mind was ringing. Dreamthoughts, dreamsong! None of it was right, real! What were these thoughts?! They weren't his! Save them. No egg, no nestmates, it hurt to think! Jump now.. So insistant, so constant, so demanding..

Save them.

Volemack leapt. Like dragons everywhere, 'Leap' means 'Leap and kill.' He leapt at the Allip, gauntlet-claws out in a ruinous pair of raking grabs as his human legs lifted him briefly.

[Academia Nut]

Volemack leapt... right through the still reeling allip, badly hurt by the combined assault from the tiny fireball and the ghost touched pick, but instead of slaying the creature, Volemack strengthened it as it stole another piece of his mind with his passage.

There was a hole in the ground, a dark hole, and a screaming voice fading away into the shadows below.

[LadyTevar]

Volemack had dove out of the way... trying to hit the ghost as he passed through it. Ceridwen snarled, hefting the heavy pick again and slashing it through the insubstantial form, the ghost strike ability allowing her to hit it dead on.

[Academia Nut]

There was a crack as the bonds of madness dissolved around the allip, revealing a sad looking man in the vestments of a minor priest of St. Cuthbert, who just blinked and said, "Oh," before fading away to nothing.

[Rogue 9]

"Cuthbert forgive him," Bartel said sadly as he stepped forward, ruby and silver starburst clutched in his hand. "I hope none of you are too badly hurt." His spiritual weapon returned to him and hovered at the ready. He considered dismissing it, but decided to let it be for the short time that remained to it, in case something else appeared.

[rhoenix]

Though the strange undead being was now gone, the voices in Fehl's head most certainly hadn't left. They whispered about strange and mad things, making him rather distracted and not a little grumpy.

"So can we set the church on fire yet?" he said in an annoyed, and almost plaintive voice.