Narration 22
Saturday 11 April 1571 P.C.E.
Matins

s the stark white skeletons advance through the ragged gash in the wall, Folly is the first to act.  The 'sage' drops his arms and armour and turns to the hideous attackers.  Bringing himself to his full height, he stretches out a hand and rattles off an incantation in the strange, lyrical lingua magicae.  For a moment, a strange shimmering covers the floor in front of the newly created opening in the wall.  Then as the shimmering fades, a layer of lumpy, grey grease can be seen covering the floor.

    In their mindless motion, the skeletons step into the slippery substance and tumble to the floor, sliding some distance across the grease.  As they tumble and struggle about on the trap, their bare bones click horrifyingly on the stone of the floor.  The mage looks at the sight and his composure slips.  His face turns into a horrified grimace as he steps back a few paces.  Then he falls to his knees, his voice muttering incomprehensibly.

    Seeing their advantage, Cain and Shardis move to harass the foundering undead.  With aimed blows, they keep the skeletons unbalanced and unable to regain their feet, but their edged weapons are slow to do harm.  Here and there, a blow nicks or breaks a bone.  As a team, they eventually take down three of the struggling bone things, breaking them into pieces.  However, Stannous will have none of it.  The wolf's hackles rise and it growls at the nightmare things.  Its instincts make it back away from something it does not understand.

ingle-minded in her purpose, Doran ignores the havoc in the sleeping area.  The young bard quickly dons her leathers and takes up her sword, then dashes back down the hall towards Castus.  As she approaches him, she sees Castus hammering away relentlessly with his heavy mace.

    As she watches, horrified, a mangled hand reaches out at floor level and seizes the monk about one ankle.  It forces the monk to stumble; another putrid hand slips through and pummels him in the face, knocking him backward into the other hall and out of sight.

    Four of the rotting dead stumble from the door as Doran stops short.  Two of the nauseating things move after Castus while the others turn and come towards Doran.  Her face twists in concentration as Doran rattles off a spell.  Two green bolts leap from her hand and strike the lead zombie in the chest.  The thing staggers from the blow and its torso is nearly severed in a foul spray of black and gray-green rotting bits, but the thing keeps coming.  She advances, sword out to meet the zombie.  Gracefully dodging its slow lumbering blows, she strikes back with her sharp blade.  She finishes the job that her missile started, and the dead thing falls to the floor in two pieces.  She gags when she sees the thing still struggle to come after her, dragging the stump of its upper body towards her.  Swallowing hard in revulsion, she moves toward the revolting lump and hacks at it with her sword.  Ignoring the putrid slime and rotting bits that splatter on her, she continues to swing until the thing is but pieces still quivering on the floor.

    Doran turns from her gory job to see the other zombie likewise entertained.  Lugnut, who had been hiding in the shadows, had struck it from behind, hamstrung it, and driven it to the floor.  With his sharp blades he was continuing the work, slicing tendons here and there, further reducing the thing to a quivering, moaning lump.  Seeing the bard, the little kobold gives her one of his toothy grins and slices one more spot before leaping off and scurrying over to her.  Chattering at her, he grabs her by the hand and begins pulling excitedly.  "Castusss...Castussss."  Realizing that he means to help the monk, Doran follows him around the corner.

inally sliding his armour on, Martin takes up his staff and the ornate crucifix.  As the heavy gold religious symbol grows warm in his hand, Martin turns to the knights and shouts, "Rumil! Durian!  Go help Castus!"  As the knights begin to move away, Martin looks to the others and commands, "The rest of you, stand back!"

    A look of resolved piety fills his face, the priest steps forward, bringing the cross overhead.  His voice filling with unearthly power, he confronts the skeletons, "In nomine Patri et Fili et Spiritui Sancti, I command you to be gone!"

    In his hand, the heavy cross bursts into a blinding white light destroying all the shadows in the room.  The skeletons halt their struggles in the grease and look up at the burning symbol, their jaws dropping almost as if in awe.  They, too, begin to glow white, until the seven remaining dead are only glowing balls of white fire.  Then, suddenly, the light is gone and where the skeletons were there is naught but a fine grey ash.  Everyone stands in silent awe.

oran and Lugnut storm around the corner and halt.  By the flickering light of Castus' lamp, they see the monk down the hall, backed up against the far wall.  He is in sore straights.  The right side of his face is battered and swelling.  He is holding himself up against the wall and weakly keeping his rotting attackers from him.

    Before the bard and kobold can move, the main doors of the keep swing open at the end of the hall.  Just in the fringe of the lantern light, Doran sees a dark figure, carrying two heavy bundles, enter the hall.  Who or whatever it is, it remains indistinct in the flickering light.  As soon as the doors close, it to sees the monk's plight.  The heavy bundles fall from its sides and it begins to charge forward, groping at its side.

    As he enters the heart of the light, Doran sees that it is a man dressed in a sodden traveler's cloak and woodsman's leathers. As he sprints forward, he draws a bastard sword from its sheath and swings it in a powerful stroke.  It catches a zombie in the side just above the hip and cuts clean through to the other side in a sickening, mushy tearing sound.  Masterfully, he changes the direction of the swing and brings it down in an overhead strike, cleaving the thing downwards to the navel.  With a rancid plop, the two pieces of the zombie's torso drop to the floor, leaving the lower body to wander mindlessly down the hall.

    The unexpected attack grabs the attention of the remaining zombie.  It turns to meet the new attacker and forgets the old. Castus brings his mace down on its head, smashing it like an overripe apple and sending bits of it spewing about the hall.  As the thing falls in a spasming heap, Castus emits an audible groan and slides down to the floor.

    The newcomer lets out a satisfied grunt and then sheathes his sword in an elaborate flourish.  He kneels down, pulls back his hood, and begins to examine the monk.  The dark-haired stranger looks to the bard and gives her a wide smile.  "We should help your friend, no?"  Doran nods and motions for Lugnut to help.  Between the three of them, they gather up everything and begin to help the wounded monk back to the group's camp.

    As your vision clears from the blinding light, no one moves. The awe of HIS power coming through Martin dropped more than a few jaws in surprise.  Not until another dark figure appears in the broken opening in the wall does anyone shake off the awe-induced numbness.

    You see a jowly priest standing with his hands crossed at his waist.  He seems uncomfortable in his cassock and painfully aware of the crucifix hanging on his chest.  Most of all, you are taken by his countenance.  His face seems twisted as if by torture, almost ready to break into tears.  His eyes carry a heavy burden of pain and sadness.  Then, the image begins to waver.

    The priest's cassock becomes rotted and torn, stained with mold and dirt from the grave.  The heavy cross becomes befouled and a hole drilled through it so that it now can hang inverted.  From the cowl, a naked skull leers at you, smiling in mockery of what you saw.  The thing's eyes are red points that flicker hatefully back in its shadowed eye sockets.  With deliberate ease, it brings one skeletal hand up and points directly at Martin, as if in warning.  The young priest responds by bringing his heavy gold crucifix to bear on the fell thing, but the cross does not flare.  The thing's bony jaw begins to move jerkily as if in silent mirth.

    At that moment, Lugnut comes running into the room.  When he catches sight of the undead, he trips and goes tumbling into the incoherent mage.  The blow brings the semi-catatonic mage back into reality and he looks up.  Seeing the fell apparition, he screams and bellows out a spell.  Three searing bolts streak from his hand and strike the thing, blasting it to pieces.  Silence returns as fragments of bone and scorched bits of cloth fall to the floor.

    Lugnut jumps back to his feet, chattering wildly.  He points back to the hall where he came and then bounds through the broken gash in the wall.  Supporting Castus between them, Doran and a dark-haired stranger enter the room.  They carefully set the wounded monk on his bedroll and turn to the rest of you.  Cain pales noticeably when he sees how gore-stained Doran is, and he quickly begins to move towards her.  However, he stops when he realizes that it is all zombie filth and that she is not injured.

    Everyone begins to ask what happened back in the hall, particularly the warriors, who eye the newcomer suspiciously.  The next several minutes are spent telling tales of your recent fights.  (OOC:  Thus explaining why everyone knows what happened.)  Then as the tales wind down, you move apart and begin to tend to your own particular necessities.

    Calimar strides to the center of the group, where everyone can see him.  He draws the sword that mysteriously appeared on his saddle, and holds it before him.  The long blade gleams in the flickering lantern light, and all can see the engraving of a vine with a prominent thorn down the length of the blade.  With precise, clipped tones, Calimar shouts so that all (and then some) can hear him.  "Upon my life, I swear to find this sword's brethren."

    The blade flashes bright for a moment and then a bodiless voice that is felt more than heard intones, "He who defeats my champion is the knight worthy to bear me.  Seek my brother Thorn in Darkness -- I shall be your guide.  Prove yourself worth to bear him."  The blade turns into a glowing brand, lighting the room, and a low humming noise fills the air.

    Another bodiless voice, one that Calimar seems to recognize, begins to speak when the sword finishes.  "Thank you, Sir Knight. I have another gift to give now that I am free to do so.  What once was mine is now yours."  Back amongst the party's equipment, something begins to stir and then rise.  All recognize it as the corroded banded armour taken from the orc camp.  It stiffly marches over and presents itself to the knight.  Before his eyes, the rust and grime begin to fall away from the metal, leaving it shining.  He sees on its chest an engraving of a rose surrounded by a vine with seven thorns.  Then, silently, the thing settles to the floor.  Calimar sheathes his blade, silencing the hum, and turns to the questioning faces of the party.  He shrugs.  "I suppose you're wondering about my little proclamation and all this?"  He pauses as of waiting for a response.  Getting none, he continues, "It all started back at the bridge with the ghost knight.  He was testing me to find a worthy knight to take up his quest for the 7 Thorns, 7 swords made by a monk many years ago.  This," he draws the sword again, filling the room with light and a humming noise, "Is the First Thorn.  After I defeated his physical form, the knight gave me his horse, the first Thorn, and a fortnight to decide whether or not I would take up his quest and release him from his existence on this plane.  The reason I am telling this to all of you who travel with me is because only those who have heard my oath may ever hear of my quest from my own lips.  For this reason, I need you as my mouthpieces.  But now it is late, we..."

    The knight is interrupted by an explosion of noise from the stables.  The horses are screaming and whinnying in terror.  The sound of their hooves hammering the stalls resounds through the keep.  As if that is not enough, Lugnut runs out of the horrible room, chattering, "More noise...noise...down...down..."