Narration 26
Saturday, 11 April 1571
An hour before Nones

dozen of the Wardens break off from the group to follow their commander's orders. As they move forward, some of them draw wooden truncheons or sealed leather bags filled with shot. Four of them turn to the kobold while the remaining eight move towards the hearth where Ilph and the squire stand momentarily shocked.

Before the Wardens close halfway, Lugnut lets out with a hideous shriek and makes for the stairway down, pausing only to take up his heavily loaded travelling bag. The four Wardens let out a shout of their own and go charging after the little fellow. The heavy stomp of the kobold's pursuers shocks the halfling thief into action. Unthinkingly, he lets his wristbow spring open and bellows, "Halt! Don't even touch me or you will live to regret it." A dagger appears in his left hand as if to punctuate the statement. His hand on his sword, Squire Gilles comes alongside the halfling to stand with him.

With cynical grins, the truncheon-wielding Wardens stop several feet aback from the threatening pair. As the center ones stand firm, calmly smacking their weapons against their palms, the remainder fan out in a skirmish line to cut off any path of escape.

With the two groups facing off, the Wardleftenant waves another of his troopers towards the stalemate. The newcomer hangs his mace on his weapons harness and serenely draws a large crucifix from the inside of his tabard. Facing the two, he begins reciting something very quickly, which the squire and the halfling momentarily recognize as a prayer.

As the two move to react, a warm glow surrounds them and they feel their bodies begin to refuse their commands. In moments, they find themselves unable to move, their limbs not responding to their pleas for action.

As the light of the holy prayer fades, the leftenant struts in front of the unmoving pair. With a wry grin on his face, he studies them for a moment, taking some satisfaction in the distress apparent in their eyes. He turns back to the crucifix wearing Warden, "Good work, Chaplain. Have the men bind these outlaws. We'll question them when the effects of your work fade."

The Chaplain salutes his officer. "I'll see to it, sir. Although begging your pardon, it was not my work, sir. It was His."

The leftenant returns the salute. "Very well then, Chaplain. When you are finished, help tend to the wounded."

The Chaplain turns to the waiting line of men. "You heard the officer. Move to it."

The men move forward and sweep the feet out from under Ilph and the Squire. Not too gently, they put them on the cold stone floor and pull their arms back behind them. Two of the Wardens produce lengths of line and quickly bind the hands of their captives, leaving them even more helpless.

One of Lugnut's pursuers returns to the campsite, looking sweaty and discouraged. He quickly spies his commander and moves to report with a salute. "Sir, the kobold made his escape. He's somewhere down in the Barrows. The others are holding the stair so he shan't be able to come out this way."

The leftenant lets out a muffled curse and starts bellowing orders. "Chaplain, choose nine of the more able men. We're going down after the little vermin."

In moments, the Wardens are in a flurry of activity. Lanterns and other gear are requisitioned from the camp. The wounded are made comfortable, and guards are put out. When all is ready, the leftenant draws his sword, lines his men up, and leads them to the stair in pursuit of Lugnut.
 

alen looks at the cat now perched on his shoulder, an expression somewhere between annoyance and bemusement on his face. Taking a look at the firm grip the feline has on his chainmail and tabard, he says softly, "Remain there if you must, good cat, but do not expect me to pet you. And I make no guarantee of your safety should we encounter any foes in this place." The cat responds by rubbing his chin against the noseguard of the knight's helmet, his buzzing purr increasing in volume as Talen stifles a sneeze. His great golden eyes ablaze, the tom settles back and slumps to an even more relaxed position as he begins to groom his whiskers.

With the big tom disinterestedly watching the proceedings, the party turns to face each other in order to discuss their choices. As a few move to give the cat a pat, Doran asks aloud, "So which way are we going to go? Follow the phantom and perhaps find the Second Thorn...or the chanting? Of course, most ceremonies do take an awful long time. Still, I'd like to check that out...but what if it's some sort of trap?"

Castus lets out a grim chuckle. "The whole bloody place seems a trap...with restless dead, deadfalls and what!"

Talen looks over in the direction of the last sight of the phantom knight, then over towards the sound of the chanting. The expression on his face is torn as he considers the possibilities. "Gentles, tempting as it is to follow our ghostly mystery, I suggest we move forward," he says softly, mindful of the evidence of others ahead. "The dead are a patient lot, and would not mind a delay overmuch, but the living are not." He looks grimly at the party. "There is what sounds like a mass taking place ahead of us. But in this poor befouled temple such a mass can only be twisted in intent. If whatever ceremony is completed while we dally, I fear the consequences."

Father Martin nods sagely. "I do fear the possibility that a Nefandite (OOC: Nefandite: definition, devil worshipping) Mass takes place nearby, but I believe we should follow the phantom. If the Second Thorn lies nearby, it will only help us in any struggle that we might face."

Castus chuckles again and points off to the northeast. "Looks like our questing knight has decided for us." While everyone was speaking, Calimar had moved off and is already some twenty feet from the party. As he is about to pass through another set of arches, the big tom on Talen's shoulder stands with his back arching. His eyes flashing angrily, the cat hisses and snarls angrily with his fangs fully extended. The wiry knight winces as the cat's claws dig through his mail's links. As the beast howls, the cause of his vicious anger becomes apparent.

Several armored shapes leap from behind nearby columns and move to attack Calimar. As they unsuccessfully try to harm the knight, many more move out as well. As their companions harass the lone knight, the larger group quickly fans out in a skirmish line to face the party, and begins to slowly move forward with arms drawn.

Behind the skirmish line, another group breaks from the northeast passage and starts to move though this chamber towards one of the northern passages.

(OOC: An actual description of the attackers will be included.)

(OOC: And if you were wondering what's happening with our little kobold friend.......)
 

leeing from the Wardens, Lugnut pauses momentarily at the dread portal to snatch up his lantern and satchel with its dangerously fragile cargo. He bounds dangerously quick down the stairs to the first landing, relying heavily on his agility to save him from mishap. There, he looks back up to see one of the pursuing Wardens standing at the portal, seemingly not willing to come further.

The kobold gives the man a toothy grin and salutes him with an obscene gesture before continuing his headlong descent down the dark and murky stairs. Keeping the lantern tightly shuttered; he relies on his dark-accustomed eyes to guide him down the human tight and twisting path. The little fellow can't keep from letting out a wistful sigh, memories of his home tunnels coming to his mind.

At the bottom, he takes sight of the still-twitching remains of the restless dead, and cautiously makes his way around bits of sickly moving flesh. In the entry chamber, he sees the three portals that lead to the south and the two great stone piles, sealing the ways to the east and west. Taking a quick peek into the southeastern room, he sees nothing but the rotted remains of furniture. The central way leads down a long tunnel, and he decides to save it for last. Moving to the southwestern door, he hears a great deal of chattering and scratching behind the door. Cautiously, he slowly lifts the latch keeping the heavy doors closed.

The doors burst open and a great wave of bony, white skull- like horrors pour from the chamber, nearly engulfing the kobold. Letting out a screaming hiss, Lugnut breaks from the things and clambers quickly up the western stone pile. The things scuttle after him like a swarm of flesh-hungry locusts, snapping and clicking with their mandibles and front legs. As they start to scurry up the base of the pile, the kobold reaches into his satchel and pulls forth a ceramic flask with a bit of rag tied around the top. Unshuttering the lantern, he sticks the rag into the flame, lighting it. With an inhuman howl of glee, he hurls the flask at the front of the advancing horde. It shatters in their midst and the oil within bursts into flame, covering many of the horrid things. As the first twitch and die, Lugnut hurls another flask and then another, killing dozens with each toss.

As he prepares another, the heavy metallic sound of pursuit comes from the stairway. Lugnut tosses his fourth flask of burning death just as the first of several Wardens exit the stairs. Seeing more likely prey, the swarm turns from the cackling kobold to the armored men. Waving their legs and clicking their grotesque mandibles, they charge the shocked warriors.

Seeing the way clear, Lugnut scurries down off the rock pile and runs to the south-central hallway. He stops and turns to see the Wardens, hacking their way through the viciously attacking skull-things. Cackling wickedly, he merrily waves at the hard- pressed soldiers before loping down the long hall to the next descending stair.