Narration 31
Part I
Saturday, 11 April 1571 P.C.E.
Post Nones

     The sudden silence brings a new sense of urgency to the activity about the chamber.  Nosdisco’s mercenaries break off from their searching for loot and move as a unit towards the western door.  They take up a position just to the north of it, flanking any enemy that might come through.  Likewise, Sir Calimar and the Wardleftenant end their patrolling and move to guard the door on its southern side.

     Sir Talen stiffens at the cessation of the unholy chanting. He draws forth his sword and turns towards the source of the sudden silence.  To Father Martin, he says, “Good Father, I am better with the sword than the less martial items of the holy offices.  May I suggest that you prepare these holy items before us?”   He motions with his sword to the former place of the aspergill.  “A spray of the PaterOmni’s blessed water might give our opponents pause.”

     “I intend to give them more than pause, Sir knight.”  Having returned from the fount, the WardChaplain smacks the now water-filled, flail-like head of the large aspergill against one open palm.  “I shall bless the doorway and smite any of the unclean that come near me.”  He rushes past and hurries to rejoin his commander by the western door.

     Looking after the rapidly departing priest, Talen turns to the seated paladin.  “Brother Rumil, we appear to have run out of time,” the wiry knight says.  “Will you come with me to investigate what is happening with our friends, the rangers?”  He pauses for a moment, waiting for an answer, but obviously anxious to move forward towards the great doors ahead of them.

     Father Martin unperturbed by the sudden silence; continues with his preparations of the holy items discovered by Folly perhaps working just a bit harder now that the press of time is made evident.   He begins laying many of the recovered objects onto the unfolded altar cloth-even having to tug some from Rumil’s zealous, polishing grasp.  Dropping the incense into the altar cloth, he pauses in his preparations.  “Good paladins,” he says, “your place is most certainly at the front of this battle, but if you could take some of the holy water that Brother Castus has been gathering and help him deliver it to our friends, I would be most grateful.”

     “Of course, good Father,” Talen agrees readily.  As if on cue, Brother Castus, having overheard Martin’s request, steps forward from the fount to hand a dozen ceramic flasks to the waiting knight. Talen swings his shield around to his back and cradles the six phials in his free arm.  Seeing him suitably loaded, the monk lays the remainder on the floor and returns to gather more from the fount.  The knight again returns his attention to the oblivious paladin.  “Brother Rumil,” he prompts.  “Will you accompany me?”

     Rumil, furiously occupied with his purifying of the relics, finally snaps out of it and agrees to help with a vigorous nod of his head.  Under his breath, he vows vengeance on the evil things and mutters prayers so devout that even Martin’s eyes widen a bit.  He takes one of the flasks and anoints his sword before beginning to stalk towards the source of his ire.  “We must bring them…to God!” he mumbles to no one in particular.

     Talen glances with unease towards this…dedicated warrior of God and prepares to follow after.  However, Rumil stops suddenly in his tracks and turns to Martin.   “I’d almost forgotten.  We must bless each other and use whatever protections are in our means to keep those of lesser faith from harm.  Will you help me, Father?”

     Finishing his packing of the altar cloth, Martin turns towards the concerned paladin.  “Brother, let your faith protect you and those nearby.”  He motions to the collected holy items laying bundled in the altar cloth.  “I shall endeavor to set up a make-shift altar in the center of the room using these relics to help in our protection against the enemy.  Go now and lead the battle.”   He motions for the two paladins to continue across the room, which they do with some celerity.

     His arms laden with phials and four water skins slung about him, Brother Castus comes up to join the priest and help him with the unwieldy bundle.  “Father, let me help with that so that we might make haste.”  He looks towards the western door.  “I have a bad feeling about what lies ahead.”  Turning back, he motions for Father Martin to take up one end of the altar cloth and he grabs the other.  With the burden slung between them, they trot to the center of the room.

     Setting the bundle down, the two quickly unpack and begin setting the altar to Martin’s specifications.  The large crucifix dominates the center flanked on either side by ensconced, lit candles.  Incense is lit and placed in the burner while sacramental wine is poured into the silver chalice.  Finishing, Castus take his leave to join the others by the western door as Father Martin begins to bless the altar and himself with the sacrament.  He anoints himself and the altar with holy water, eats one of the holy wafers and sips on sacramental wine while offering up prayers to the AllFather.  “In nomine Patri, et fili, et spiritu sancti...” The words roll off his tongue and light begins to build around his crucifix and the one on the make-shift altar.

     Brother Rumil and Sir Talen join the other fighting men by the western door.  The mercenaries seem content to maintain a defensive position, but Sir Calimar and the Wardleftenant seem ready to move forward through the doors.  They only wait as the WardChaplain goes through the blessing of the western portal with prayer and a heavy dousing of holy water.   As he finishes by blessing Calimar, the leftenant, and after noticing them, Rumil & Talen as well, the group seems set to advance into the hallway beyond when the doors burst open.

     Wide-eyed and his tongue rolling out, Lugnut screeches to a halt at the blades leveled in his direction.   Gulping down his breath, he shrieks while pointing back towards the hall.  “ Help!  Help!  Bad things coming!  Bad things!  Ranger say get help…get help quick!”  His hissing voice slides into undecipherable kobold and he begins to jump up in down with frustration.  After a moment, he collapses in exhaustion.

     Having just joined his fellows, Brother Castus smiles at the seemingly dejected kobold.  “All right, lad.  We’ve got your message…we’ll go help our fellows.”  He hefts his mace and looks toward Calimar, the WardChaplain, the leftenant, Talen and Rumil while his smile turns grim.  “Shall we gentlemen?”  He motions toward the open door and leads the other five into the hallway beyond.

     Unnoticed by the entrance to the spider chamber, Folly, Travana and Doran have just returned from their jaunt into the neighboring chambers.  With intense purpose, they take in what happens by the west door and see Father Martin at his work.  They pause to quickly discuss something amongst themselves.

     As the halfling’s smoke boils up around them and starts to obscure their visions, Cain casts a quick eye towards Garridan before he disappears in the haze.  The gypsy ranger gives him a brusque nod and begins to pull himself to his feet as he disappears in the rapidly expanding cloud.    Seeing that his companion is well on his way to his escape, Cain runs off blindly through the cloying smoke back towards the party.   His only guide is the glare from Lugnut’s lantern shining through the haze.

     Behind him, he hears the eastern halfling shouting something in his own strange tongue, followed by the metallic tinklings of sharp pointed things bouncing off stone.   In response, another of the creatures howls in frustration and is joined by the hunting howl of the others.   Farther back in the distance, he can hear the sounds of shouting and upheaval coming from the cathedral.

     The three scouts break from the fog bank at almost the same instant.  A welcome sight greets them at the far end of the hall.   Castus leads five others from the party-including the two paladins and the WardChaplain.   They’ve arrayed themselves in a staggered battle line, apparently ready for what may come.   Bright flashes of recognition matched with looks of concern lights faces on both sides.  The rangers and the halfling pick up the pace, sprinting forward break-neck and nearly neglecting to hop over the tripwire guarding the hall.

     While others tend to the other two, Castus catches Cain as the ranger staggers to halt.  “What have we got, lad?”  Breathing heavily from his sprint, he points back towards the fog cloud just as dark forms appear from it.  Large, bat-winged, gargoyle-like creatures, some red, some black, lope and glide out of the haze.  With howls of glee and fires burning in their slit eyes, they charge the waiting adventurers.