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

     At the sight of monsters charging from the smoke, Sir Talen puts voice to the trepidation that everyone feels.  Barely audible to those near, he whispers, “The PaterOmni be with us.”  A moment later, his voice more resolved and his countenance set.  “I do battle with the Allfather at my side.”  With the other knight, paladin, and Warden officers, he steps forward beyond the recently arrived rangers and halfling to form a defensive skirmish line.  Grim-faced, they set to face the charge.

     Castus takes the battered rangers and halfling under his care.  “Step back with me lads and take a moment to catch your breath.  I’m sure we’ll all be at it soon enough.”  He hands a flask of water around for each to take a quick swig.

     Cain turns to Castus and pants.  “They are unbelievably strong, and barely felt my blade.”  Louder, so the rest can be warned, “Wrap your hands!  Avoid wooden weapons…they can heat up materials.  Garridan’s crossbow burst into flames!”  Taking a glance around for a second weapon, he moves to fall in with the others to brace for the attack.

     Castus puts up a restraining hand.  “Take a moment, lad.   The knights will have it in hand for a few seconds.”  The monk notices the ranger’s missing scimitar.  He reaches behind his back and pulls out a short sword, which he hands to the ranger.  “You seem to be missing a blade.  See if this will serve and take this as well—it may prove useful.”  He follows the blade with a vial of the water taken from the fount and then hands similar vials to Garridan and Nodisco.

     The wiry knight’s voice filters back from his place on the line.  “Preparations have already been made", Talen says to the others while gesturing towards the door that leads to Father Martin’s altar.  “We should meet them on ground of our choosing.  Go! I will safeguard our path while we regroup!”

     Castus hefts his mace and looks back toward the onrushing monsters.  “Lad, I think it’s too late for that.”    He, Cain and several others take a quick moment to say a silent prayer and risk one last look upwards—then the monsters are upon the line.
 

     At Martin’s words, the heavy gold crucifix about his neck responds in a most unexpected manner.  At first from the liquid filled crystal at its center, a warm white begins glow with angelic brilliance.  In moments, it is joined by a like light from the heavy altar crucifix and the two sources of light join to become one.  Slowly and steadily, it grows, spreading across the floor and up the walls.  As the light reclaims this place, the white and gold flecked marble of the walls and floors shine with the Holy Presence, driving the shadows far from this room.  At the effects of his work, he pauses for a moment and the light almost immediately begins to falter under the heavy darkness that infects this place.  Sensing the change, he resumes the mass and the light regains its strength.
 

     The discussion forgotten, Folly glances around in shock and takes note of the make-shift altar, the lack of chanting, Lugnut slumped against a nearby wall, and the noise echoing from the hall.  Then, he takes off in a sudden sprint toward the western doorway.  He pauses only when the bard catches him around one arm and offers up the recently discovered sword and bracers.

     Doran smiles and says, "You might need these."

     With agitated hands, the 'sage' takes the offered items and mumbles off a quick 'thanks' before resuming his flight towards the open doors.

     As Folly hurtles away, Travana turns to her remaining companion and motions toward Father Martin and the brightness surrounding him.  "We should help the good Father, so he can concentrate on his work."  She looks back towards the commotion to the west.  "I think if we rush into the hall that we may do more harm than good."  She draws from her sack one of the jars that she had found.  "We could try to help by filling the jars that we found with holy water in case we need it to stop the monsters."

     "I'm all for helping Father Martin.  I plan on using my own rather unique skills."   Flashing a grin, Doran mimes playing her gittern."

     "I will keep an eye on you, sister, as well as the good Father.  There is no telling what evil lies beyond the door."  With that, the pair separates.  Doran moves towards the fount where her pack and gittern lay while Travana, with a hand on her sword, moves towards the party's priest.

     Quickly covering the distance, Travana circles wide to fall within Martin's field of vision so her approach does not startle the praying priest.  Coming closer, the half-elfess tries to wait for a moment's pause before asking, "Father Martin, may I have a vial or two that was left to you to protect us?  I intend to keep watch as you work."

     Martin pauses in his rapid litany of prayer and gasps for moment before answering. "Travana, I would be happy to share any holy water that remains with you, and I would be happy to have your assistance in the meantime."  At the momentary lapse in his prayers, the glow about the room falters and Father Martin jolts back into Church Imperial at the realization. With the resumption of his prayers, the bright light returns to its former intensity.

     "Thank you, Father."  Travana takes up vial of holy water and draws her sword.  Treading softly as not to distract the priest, she moves to a position halfway between the altar and the open western door.  Stopping there, she sets with the water-vial in her off hand, prepared to remove the cork if necessary.

     Doran returns from the fount with her pack and gittern and picks spot just beyond Martin's altar.   Setting down her pack as cushion, the bard sits and begins to softly tune her gittern.   At the gentle strumming of the instrument, she notices Father Martin’s head twitch in the direction of the sound.   “I hope the music won’t disturb you, Father. I plan on playing something that will arouse a good soul’s martial spirit.”  Doran grins, an impish twinkle lighting the depths of her blue eyes.  “Unless of course you have any particular requests?”

     The young priest pauses once again in the midst of the tumult of prayer rolling out from him.  “Something meditative would be nice.  Liturgical would even be better, if you have it among your repertoire.  Thank you.”  Without pausing for a breath, he hurriedly returns to his chant just as the light begins to dim anew.  The barest flicker is visible in its strength as the words of praise once again echo through the large chamber.

     With her eyes closed, Doran leans over her instrument in momentary thought.   Having decided, she sits straight with the gittern cradled in her arms.   Her eyes still closed and a beatific smile on her face, she begins to play and then joins the melody with her voice.
 

     As if in response to the challenge, the shrieks streaming from the hall grow fiercer and more malign. They are soon joined the shouts of your comrades and the sounds of arms being brought to bear.  The upsurge of noise heralds that combat has been joined.  Everyone about the room tenses at the sound, and Nodisco’s mercenaries fan out to take position by the western door.   It does not escape notice that they do not advance beyond into the hall.
 

     The First Thorn buzzing and shining brightly, Sir Talen raises the sword, ready to strike down the flyers lest they pass over the group and block their retreat.  With his shield arm, he prepares a phial of holy water, intending to toss it at the feet of the first Unholy creature that dares to tread on what was once the Church’s rightful sanctuary.  Gesturing with his blade, the wiry knight growls, “For the Allfather!”

     While his Thorn bearing comrade has prepared, Calimar has acted.  Flame flickering the length of the blade, the questing knight sets himself with the Second Thorn held high, ready to meet the flying charge.  As the lead, red monster flies past, he strikes out with all of his strength. The buzzing blade cuts deep into the thing’s shoulder and continues through until the beast is cleaved in two.

     Spiteful in death, the thing’s barbed tail lashes out and slashes the knight’s cheek nigh to the bone.  As it dying screams echo through the hall, the corpse hurtles past, spraying out blood, ichor and entrails, which cover everyone within reach.  Finally, it comes to a stop as it crashes into the wall beyond.

     The black creature fares a little better.  It plunges down upon the Wardchaplain, raking him with its rending claws as it tries to pass.  Sorely hurt, the doughty priest responds in kind.  He whirls the heavy aspergil about drives its head home into the beast’s face.  The blow sends the thing crashing to the floor where it writhes as it is burned by the holy water.  Hissing and snarling, it tries to rise back to its feet only to be met by Brother Rumil.

     The paladin strides boldly up to the creature and booms, ”Hellspawn!  I SMITE THEE!  BACK TO THE FIERY PIT THAT SPAWNED YOU! The Allfather is my shield! I do not fear you!”  He swings his heavy sword two handed over his head and brings it down in a forceful arc upon the creature’s back.  The anointed blade cleaves free a wing and staggers the beast further.  Not giving any quarter, he continues his assault in labored breaths. Voicing prayers between blows, he does not halt until the thing moves no more.

     As the fury of the first assault ebbs, the second wave of howling monsters slams into the party.  For a moment, it appears that the line will falter but the fury of the attack is blunted. The line holds as fang and claw are met by shield and sword.  In the confusion of melee, little proves to be effective, as each side is only able to inflict minor wounds on the other.  However, where one of the creatures leaves a mark, it remains as a bloody reminder.  The party's efforts seem vanish almost as soon as they are made.

     However, the tide begins to turn on one end of the line.  Alone on the right, the Wardleftenant tries to hold position as he faces off against one of the towering black monsters.  The brave Warden officer attempts to drive back the beast, but his sword proves totally ineffective.  The beast's claws are another matter.  It rakes both hands down the Wardleftenant's chest, causing the man to drop to the floor in agony.  The monster follows, intent on finishing off its prey, when it is struck by a series of flashing bolts of energy.

     Letting the last arcane word of the spell slip from his tongue, Folly is revealed standing with his hand outstretched just inside doorway.  He speaks without turning.  "I'm gone for ten minutes and you're already in trouble?" He says jokingly.  He watches the effects of his spell with interest and grins when the creature is knocked back, smoking wounds dotting its chest.  The grin fades when the thing regains its footing and locks eyes with him.  It lets forth a vicious hiss-scream and begins to stalk forward towards the 'sage'.

     As the fight continues, another group of four more creatures runs from the thin mist cloaking the north end of the hall.  As they pass Lugnut's lantern, one kicks it, sending it end over end down the hallway.  Party members have to dodge as it flies past, spewing little spurts of flaming oil.   The hall is cast into darkness save for the small, scattered pools of flickering oil and the light cast by the Thorns.

     From the back row, Castus suddenly mutters in a hopeless tone, "The saints preserve us."

     Those that can spare a look are greeted with a despairing vista.  In the darkness behind the line, four pairs of flickering eyes suddenly appear and are joined by the chortling hiss of the creatures.  With an insulting languidness, four of the monsters slide from the shadows and move to attack. The party has been flanked.