Wight Club
Chandor's Crossing, sunset
Chandor's Crossing -- named after a crossroads, not a river crossing -- isn't a tiny village. It's actually reasonable size, but the hard fact is that it's too far out for Alexandria to support easily. Which, of course, means it has to be evacuated. Much of the town's dependents, women and children, have left during the daylight hours, leaving only a relative handful of elders and guardsmen.
The hurried briefing you received on the airship also mentioned a wizard resides there in Chandor's Crossing -- one of some repute, retired from adventuring. However, beyond his name, Amritt Barna, you know little about him. The airship glides down through the early evening, towards the town square, and drops anchor there... settling till the ladder can be run out to the ground so you can get down off it.
Dirk plants a hand on the airship's railing and leaps over. "Hup!" He drops to the ground, landing with a mighty THUD that only Peak Dwarfness can bring. Once he's down, he lifts his fist to his mouth, blowing a soft hooting sound through the curled fingers. There's an answering hoot, and a fluffy white-faced owl wings down from the airship to join him, hopping onto his shoulder. "There's a good lass," he says with a chuckle, fondly stroking a fingertip over the avian's breast-feathers. He glances around, tipping back the brim of his tricorne to get a good look at the place. His owl, Lulu, turns her head in the opposite direction. Possibly looking for a tasty treat.
Aragos hasn't talked through the trip. Not beyond the necessity of giving his name. His black armor and sour disposition don't encourage much in the way of small talk either. There's a symbol of Vardama emblazoned on him, but aside from the scales he could be any one of a number of adventurers. He smells faintly of alcohol, but he didn't drink during the trip so it's safe to assume he's at least mostly sober. The dark-haired man disembarks from the ship in relative silence, his armor clanking quietly.
Some might find it funny how quickly one can become accustomed to airship insertions. Having gone from never having stepped foot on an airship in her long elven life to having ridden in several over the past few weeks, Nemori is almost at the point where she's walking the decks like an old hand. The ladder proves a simple enough task, and she climbs down and lands shortly after Dirk and Aragos, taking a moment to resettle her wide-brimmed sun hat before taking a look at the group's destination.
The look Nemori gives the town is not flattering as she gazes around the buildings grown around the town center. "I am about done with anyone too stubborn to leave. If any wish to stay, I am more than happy to leave them here."
Sora makes her way down off the ship. She has been fairly on the quiet side herself, but then she was gone from Alexandria for quite some time and has a lot on her mind. She does move over to join the others, and glances at them, realizing that she is the smallest one there. She is checking the straps on her shiny breastplate that can only be mithral, and rubs the metallic arm for a moment as she joins them. She reaches up and checks the hilt of the massive greatsword strapped to her back, to make sure it is secure and all before she drops her hand back down. "So where do we start?" she asks as she glances back to the others.
The hamlet is well made, if a little rustic. A large palisade encircles the main buildings, dominated by a gate that is barred and braced. Evidently they aren't receiving any visitors today. From the town center a dirt path leads to said gate between a stout stone building with a sign depicting a tankard over the door, and on the other side a pair of open-air wood awnings, evidently for tying up horses.
A small group of people are waiting just outside the town square, looking nervous, some checking the skies still. A bulky man, his close-cropped dark hair and beard peppered with gray, approaches you, nodding. "Harven Smithson, gentlemen and ladies. We're not keen on hanging around, but..."
He pauses. "Master Amritt flew off to do some scouting. He -said- he'd be back sooner." His face shows worry. "He had us set those up before he left."
The sheriff points to where two hefty, sealed jars are set along the dirt path -- one by the gates, and one about thirty feet closer and across the dirt path. "Told us not to mess with them unless the wights came calling, then we should break them and run."
Dirk looks up at Nemori as she joins them on the ground, nodding his head firmly. "Aye, I'm wi' you, lassie," he grumbles. "We dwarves are plenty patient. But a yard full o' clankin' robo-beasties -and- an ol' duffer trompin' about in powered armor? Even -we- have our limits!" He trundles over to the sheriff, reaching up to offer a hand to shake. "Great tae meet ye, sheriff," he says. "Dirk Stormgrip. We're here tae help." He glances over at the two jars, peering a bit more closely in their direction. "Och. Those are some pretty hefty jars," he mutters. "Wonder what's in 'em? Holy water? Acid? Flamables? My coin's on flamables." He looks back to the sheriff. "Any notion o' where yer wizard friend was headed?" he asks. "An'... did he actually -fly- off? If he -flew- off, I might nae be able to track 'em so well." Lulu ruffles her breast feathers, hoo-ing softly. "No, lassie, I don't think -you- could track 'em either," he says.
Aragos looks up and down the road, he looks somehow even less pleased to learn that the wizard in question has gone off on his own. "You'd best run now." He offers to the sheriff. "Better to be off _before_ the wights get here than to leave at the last moment and leave someone behind." His tone is empty. As if he doesn't truly care one way or the other.
"As for the wizard..." He glances toward Nemori and nods to her as if to agree with her sentiment from earlier.
Sora nods and cocks her head to the side a little, "How long till we can get the rest of you out of here?" she asks as she eyes the jars and then looks around. She is trying to be alert, she does not really like being out here, but they call for assistance was made while she was near, so here she is.
There it was. The 'but'. Nemori puts her hand over her eyes, reminding herself softly, "This is the price." Still, she is bolstered by at least some of her sentiments being shared by some of the others. Her nod and scowl to Dirk and Aragos after she drops her hand recognizes the sentiment. "Perhaps the airship can carry some of you back." Several airship rides or not, certain things like carrying capacity are still outside of Nemori's airship knowledge. "I hope you all are already packed and ready to leave."
Indeed, the people assembled are all carrying bags, and don't seem super eager to leave, though there are some long faces. Understandable, considering the circumstances. As they start to shuffle towards the airship, one points up, then another. "Look! There he is!"
The sun's last rays illuminate a small dot in the sky that rapidly resolves into a man robed in white, whose flight is... well, let's be generous and just say he might not be as skilled as he should be. Wildly weaving to and fro, the white-haired, white robed fellow manages to make it over the palisade and down... until his spell appears to fizzle out six feet over the dirt path, which causes him to drop with an audible thud.
There's a moment of fear there, but then he holds up one hand, a thumb up, and a loud sigh of relief comes from the villagers. It seems the wizard is well liked here, whatever his foibles. He levers himself up, dusting himself off, and says, "Great Scott! Get -aboard-, you lot! I managed to delay them with some well placed spells but they're practically at my heels!" As he approaches, it's clear he's holding the 'eccentric wizard' story role with both hands; he's clean shaven with a wild halo of white hair. "Who are you? Ah, adventurers! Amritt Barna, at your service! Let's get these people out of here!"
Dirk looks up as he sees that white-shrouded figure approaching. Lulu does as well, her always-wide-open eyes getting even wider. As Amritt thuds to the ground, she ruffles her feathers, fluffing up her wings and stooping on Dirk's shoulder. She'd look quite the menace if she wasn't less than a foot tall, bobbing her head back and forth as she hisses at this strange flying creature that is no -ordinary- owl! Dirk trundles over to help the wizard to his feet. But the man's news that the wights are -right behind- him has the old snowbeard's face turning pale. "Great Gilead's Ghost!" he garrulously gasps. Without hesitation, he turns to the remaining villagers. "Right, you heard the man! Up ye get! C'mon, move, move, move!" He starts hurrying villagers to the airship, swinging his arm to hurry them along. They might not quite understand the threat the wights pose. He -does-.
Sora winces as the wizard falls and thuds into the ground. She shakes her head a bit and then nods and looks back to the people heading towards the airship, "Homes can be rebuilt, people cannot, please move to board the airship so we can get you all to safety." she says and then glances back and dips her head to the wizard, "Sora," she says and then just turns back. Her eyes watch around them though, she isn't going to be caught with her shorts down, well not that her outfit has shorts, but still.
Aragos is not visibly pleased to see the wizard, but he winces slightly when the man hits the ground hard. After a moment of allowing the man to explain the situation he steps forward and motions toward the airship firmly. "You heard the man. No time to waste! Get on the ship!" Like Dirk he hurries the villagers along to the best of his ability. Once they're moving though, he's headed toward the nearest jar to take up a post against any wights that might be a little early on arrival.
For a moment Nemori was left thinking the wizard issue had solved itself. But no, it appears Amritt Barna is made of sturdy stuff. She makes no move towards the wizard, instead stepping aside to be sure she doesn't get in the way of people milling towards the airship while she looks towards the gates... though, of course, with the number of undead supposedly in the countryside, they could theoretically breach any part of the fortified town in enough time. "Do you see or hear anything yet, Aragos?" she calls after the taciturn man.
You don't have to wait long.
While Amritt is chivvying his fellow townsfolk onto the airship -- the wild haired man has a kind of charm to him despite looking like a deranged madman -- there's a loud THUD at the gate. And it flexes, as though something -big- hit it. Big, and strong, as there's another THUD. WHAM. CRACK.
The gates are giving away, and beyond, something is pushing on them. Battering them down with inhuman, unholy vigor, as the townspeople scream and point. Suddenly the hinges of the gates give up -- it looks more like they tear free from the wall, as they crash to the ground.
Framed in the opening are... those are not wights. Hulking, four legged things, like monstrous wolves with glittering cruel red eyes. Black, disgusting drool drips from their muzzles, as they take a step forward...
GAME: Dirk rolls Knowledge/Nature+4: (16)+8+4: 28 GAME: Nemori casts Spiritual Weapon. Caster Level: 4 DC: 15 GAME: Nemori rolls 1d20+3+3: (9)+3+3: 15 GAME: Nemori rolls 1d8+1: (3)+1: 4
"Those.. are not wights," Nemori says, casting a baleful glance at the wizard as she pulls her token from her pocket. Using it as a focos, she summons a pink-ish red, translucent rapier that strikes at one of the lead wolves as she bravely ducks behind Dirk.
GAME: Aragos rolls Will: (6)+8: 14 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17
The first hulking wolf stalks forward, its teeth flashing as it flinches from the bite of Nemori's spiritual weapon. Swiftly, it crosses to Aragos, locking gazes with him, before it lunges. Teeth snap an inch away from Aragos's flesh, and the wolf-creature lets out an awful, hollow growl, a wordless declaration of hunger for meat... or worse.
GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+4+4+1: (20)+4+4+1: 29 GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged: (20)+7: 27 (THREAT) GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged-2: (20)+7+-2: 25 (THREAT) GAME: Dirk rolls 4d12+16: (39)+16: 55
Dirk narrows his eyes as those wolves blast open the gates and start making their way in. "Careful, friends! Those're nae ordinary wolves!" he growls. And our Award for Master of the Perfectly Obvious goes to Dirk Stormgrip! He whistles three swift notes through his teeth. "Lulu! Go!" he barks. The owl fluffs up her feathers and launches from Dirk's shoulder, winging swiftly over to the wolf attacking Aragos. She hisses through her beak, fluttering as she harries the beast. But her master is not idle. Dirk lifts his thunderbelcher, eyes narrowed as he brings his focus into razor clarity. His finger slowly curls around the trigger as he draws a deep breath. "Gilead, guide my hand," he whispers softly, before he pulls back. CHK-BOOM! The bullet zings straight through the cursed lupine's cranium, blasting chunks of gore out in a massive burst. The fell beast staggers to the side, wavering briefly, before tottering over and landing on its flank. WHUDD! Dirk racks his rifle, a savage grin creasing his leathery features. "WHO ELSE WANTS SOME!?" he roars, turning his gaze to the others.
GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+3+1: (20)+3+1: 24 GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+6: (11)+6: 17 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+3+1: (10)+3+1: 14 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d4: (1): 1 GAME: Aragos rolls 1d10+7: (2)+7: 9 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d8+7: (6)+7: 13 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (14)+13: 27 GAME: Nemori casts Liberating Command. Caster Level: 4 DC: 14 GAME: Dirk rolls Escape Artist+8: (15)+-1+8: 22
The second wolfcreature looks stunned for a moment, before charging forward... disdaining Lulu, even Aragos's blade, as its dripping maw opens wide. The fangs sink into Dirk's shoulder, but before the beast can drag him off his feet, Nemori speaks a word, and the wolf's jaw sags... dropping Dirk. The monster actually looks surprised that happened.
GAME: Sora rolls will+1: (15)+3+1: 19 GAME: Sora rolls strike-2: aliased to finesse+3-2: (9)+11+3+-2: 21 GAME: Sora rolls powdam: aliased to 2d6+3+2+1+1+6: (7)+3+2+1+1+6: 20 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d8+7: (4)+7: 11 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (19)+13: 32
Sora shakes her head, "Don't get cocky..." she starts to say towards Dirk and then watches as the second wolf moves up and bites him. She shakes her head and then moves forward, "That wasn't nice." she calls out to the wolf, her artifice arm reaches up and pulls her greatsword from her back. Both hands grip the hilt and the blade shimmers, made of the same mithral as her breastplate. "Lets dance." she says as she moves up to the wolf bravely steeling her nerves. Her greatsword weaves around her like it was a shortsword. She appears to literally be dancing with the blade that is almost bigger than she is. As she reaches the wolf, her dance changes slightly focusing a bit more on power than accuracy as she brings it across and slicing brutally into the wolf's side.
The third wolf suddenly rears back and howls. It's not a normal wolf's howl, either, or even a werewolf's howl. It's hollow, empty, bereft of even a lycanthrope's passion, a horrible thing. And then it charges. Much like its brethren, its teeth sink into Aragos's flesh, and it won't let go, making a horrid snarling sound as it worries at the hapless paladin.
GAME: Aragos rolls CMB: (5)+5: 10 GAME: Aragos rolls CMB: (10)+5: 15 GAME: Aragos rolls 1d6: (5): 5 GAME: Nemori rolls perception: (17)+9: 26 GAME: Sora rolls perception: (17)+7: 24 GAME: Aragos rolls perception: (19)+1: 20
Aragos feels a momentary thrill of fear, but the sensation is not an unfamiliar one to the paladin of Vardama and he shakes it off long enough to skitter his sword along the side of the wolf passing by him for Dirk. "Ware they come!" He shouts at the man, though he knows that the warning comes a bit late. His eyes flicker toward the jar on the ground but he has no time to shatter the jar before a second of the creatures is upon him. It picks him up in its powerful jaws and he grunts and shakes himself, trying to shed it from himself but to little avail.
GAME: Nemori rolls will: (2)+7: 9 GAME: Nemori rolls will: (12)+7: 19 GAME: Nemori rolls 2d6: (6): 6 GAME: Nemori rolls 1d20+3+3: (12)+3+3: 18 GAME: Nemori rolls 1d8+1: (6)+1: 7 GAME: Dirk rolls Will+2: (19)+3+2: 24
Alright. So Dirk was not the best choice as a shield/speed bump. Nemori takes a moment to redirect her summoned rapier, then shuffles sideways a little bit to keep the.. smaller woman between her and the wolves. The shadow elf shakes her head, then, holding her token tightly. She really, really doesn't like this part. But she does it anyways... opening herself up as a conduit to the divine powers of positive energy, she jerks as they fill her. As before, her eyes go white, bleeding energy as she gathers it up.. then she staggers as she releases it all at once as a pulse of healing power.
GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged-2: (14)+7+-2: 19 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d12+4: (3)+4: 7
"HYARRRRRGH!" Dirk bellows in agony as the wolf craunches down on his shoulder. He cocks back his fist, ready to let the lupine have it, but Nemori's even faster. With the help of her divine magic, he's freed from the thing's clutches! He scrabbles back out of snapping range, tossing her a swift two-fingered salute as her holy energies soothe the pain of his wound. He casts his gaze wildly around, settling on the proscribed jars nearby. "Please don't be flammables," he mutters as he lifts his thunderbelcher. He sights down the barrel and pulls the trigger. CHK-BOOM! The bullet PYANGs into the jar, sending up a little puff of clay dust as the bullet hits. He racks his rifle, tensed and ready to spring just in case another megawolf decides to try and make a snack out of him.
The jar breaks, and what comes out isn't water. Or fire. Or acid.
Beetles.
A whole -swarm- of beetles, each glossy black with a strange little white mark on their carapace, crawling from the shattered jar like a glittering tide. As one, the carpet of beetles makes straight for the wolf, ignoring Aragos as they start to chew and bite at the wolf!
Amritt can be heard from the ship, laughing. "It's a natural solution! Carrion beetles with a taste for the flesh of the unliving!"
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6: (2): 2 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+3: (19)+3: 22 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+13: (10)+13: 23 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d2: (1): 1
The wolf-creature twitches and shudders as the scarabs start chewing on it, but it won't let go of Aragos! With its fangs firmly driven into the paladin's flesh, the wolf begins making an awful -sucking- sound... starting to draw on the champion's blood as the beast growls low in its throat, a sickening sound.
GAME: Sora rolls acrobatics: (7)+11: 18 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (13)+7: 20 GAME: Sora rolls strike-2: aliased to finesse+3-2: (13)+11+3+-2: 25 GAME: Sora rolls powdam: aliased to 2d6+3+2+1+1+6: (7)+3+2+1+1+6: 20 GAME: Sora rolls strike-2: aliased to finesse+3-2: (5)+11+3+-2: 17 GAME: Sora rolls powdam: aliased to 2d6+3+2+1+1+6: (7)+3+2+1+1+6: 20
Sora looks at the situation and really doesn't like the addition of the bugs. She takes a deep breath and then tries to to a flip past where the wolf she had been fighting was, but still draws the attack. Just missing the lass, Sora breathes a sigh of relief as she lands. Still focusing on strength rather than accuracy, her new position lets her line up a strike and slashes her greatsword through the wolf. Her movements continue even as that wolf falls to the ground with chunks missing from it. Her blade dances through the air still as she rips it through the other wolf that her flip brought her close enough to strike. It too, soon falls to the ground. She eyes the beetles warily.
Aragos moves wearily, his strength feeling somewhat sapped by the wolf's draining of his blood. Even so, he hastens to the other jar, stepping over and around the scarabs as they enjoy their dead wolf meal. "These are _not_ wights." He mutters, mostly to himself. In truth he's not disappointed, but it probably sounds that way. Once he reaches the destination he waits with anticipation. He knows there's more coming.
GAME: Nemori rolls 1d20+3+3: (5)+3+3: 11
"Why are they not all on the airship yet?!" Nemori demands. She isn't hysterical. But her raised voice is shrill and unpleased. Nevermind the fact that she's been grouped with very capable adventurers... being between the undead and their prey is not an enviable place to be. Still, she does her best to keep pace with the sword twirling Sora while directing her summoned weapon, nearly on the last legs of its enchantment, to attack the new threat.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+6: (18)+6: 24 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4+1: (1)+1: 2
The vanguard of the unholy has arrived, and they are not pleased.
One of the wights ducks under the slash of Nemori's spiritual weapon, and charges, sensing the pulsing life gathered there. Its first target is Sora, as its fist slams into her chest, and there's a horrible creaking sound like laughter as her energy is drawn away, the beast licking its lips with a gray, putrid tongue.
GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged-2: (19)+7+-2: 24 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d12+4: (7)+4: 11 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+3: (6)+3: 9
Dirk can't help but be impressed by Sora's display of bladework. He pumps his fist with a grin. "Yeah! There's a lass!" he booms with a grin. But that grin dies on his bearded face as the wights make their appearance. "Oh, piss up my -arse-," he groans. He tenses as the party is rushed. As one of the wights engages Sora, he whistles sharply through his teeth three times. "That one Lulu, get 'em!" he barks, gesturing at the wight. Lulu hoo-hoo's in response, fluttering over to start harrying the wight and hopefully giving Sora some support. But the old dwarf isn't finished. He lifts his rifle and sights down the barrel, squinting towards the other jar of scarabs. CHK-BOOM! His bullet flies true, shattering the jar and spilling another swarm of flesh-eating beetles out. "Ulp," he says, looking a little green around the gills. But hey... beetles are a part of nature, right?
GAME: Sora rolls strike+2-1: aliased to finesse+3+2-1: (8)+11+3+2+-1: 23 GAME: Sora rolls powdam: aliased to 2d6+3+2+1+1+6: (8)+3+2+1+1+6: 21
Sora growls as the wight hits her and she feels the drain, "That was not smart." she shakes her head and whips her greatsword around her and slashes heavily across the wight, cutting deeply and severely wounding it. "Just stay dead." she howls with a bit of frustration.
GAME: Aragos rolls 1d20+3: (10)+3: 13 GAME: Aragos rolls 1d4: (2): 2 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+4: (1)+4: 5 (EPIC FAIL)
Aragos has a thought. It's not perhaps the smartest thought he's ever had, but the man has seen what the bettles can do, and that's something. He quickly scoops up a piece of the broken jar and the beetles with it - and throws it at the wight. Then, he quickly takes up a defensive stance, which is none to late given the look of where that wight is headed...
Undead flesh eating beetles. One wonders what Amritt might get up to if he wasn't rushed. As the beetles latch onto the charging wight, it staggers forward, missing a step. Pawing at the scarabs, it blunders right into the swarm, flailing angrily... slapping the beetles away and never even coming close to Aragos.
GAME: Nemori casts Comprehend Languages. Caster Level: 4 DC: 14 GAME: Nemori rolls 1d20+3+1: (2)+3+1: 6
"Fuck." Not a word normally heard by Nemori, her tradespeak almost always very deliberate and quite correct.. befitting one who didn't grow up to it, but learned it through lessons instead. "Fuck," she says again, then casts a quick healing spell before stepping close to the wight and reaching for it. Her hesitance costs her; her swipe at the undead thing is wide. Her summoned weapon also slashes at it one more time, ineffectively, before fading away.
The wight is -covered- in beetles, and it's more luck than skill that makes it shy away from the spiritual weapon and Nemori's spell. It staggers back and away, pushing the beetles off, looking dazed from the savage blow of Sora's sword as well as the hungry beetles cutting into its undead sinews.
GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d20+4: (2)+4: 6 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d4: (4): 4 GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged-2: (16)+7+-2: 21 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d12+4: (2)+4: 6 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6: (6): 6 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+3: (4)+3: 7
Dirk narrows his eyes as the wight staggers away from Sora. "Good," he growls, lifting his rifle. He whistles once, a warbling trill. "Get 'em Lulu!" he calls. Lulu responds, swooping in and swiping at the wight with her talons. As she does, Dirk sights down his weapon's barrel. He pulls a deep breath and releases it, squeezing the trigger. CHK-BOOM! The bullet smacks into the wight's temple, sending it reeling to the side. The undead monstrosity drops, and is soon swarmed by the scarabs. "Dinner is served?" the old ranger gulps, wiping a trickle of cold sweat from his brow.
Clearly, the scarabs are more than happy to feast on the unholy abominations. The wight near Aragos is swinging wildly, not even close to connecting with him, as the beetles begin biting into its flesh in earnest. Arcs and pops of white light flash along it.
Meanwhile, the other swarm of beetles settles over the fallen wight, and begins to strip the flesh from its bones. Disgusting, but effective.
GAME: Sora rolls strike+2-1: aliased to finesse+3+2-1: (14)+11+3+2+-1: 29 GAME: Sora rolls powdam: aliased to 2d6+3+2+1+1+6: (7)+3+2+1+1+6: 20 GAME: Aragos rolls perception: (19)+1: 20
Sora is still pissed with the one wight draining her like that and as she watches the others take it down, her eyes alight on the remaining one over by Aragos. She grips her greatsword tightly and charges towards the wight. She dances with her blade as she gets closer and lets loose with a powerful strike. Her greatsword cleaves into the wight, dropping it like the others, beetle food.
Aragos looks out into the dark beyond and shakes his head. "Time to go." With that said he turns and there's... a woman beside him. "Fuck." Colorful language aside, Aragos grabs the woman round the middle and roughly throws her over his shoulder. "Sorry about this!"
He runs then waving his free arm as he clanks down the road. "RUN! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"
Nemori doesn't need to be told twice. Everyone heard it. If Aragos and Sora and Dirk get eaten, it's not her fault! So Nemori runs, straight up the gangplank and on to the deck of the airship.
Dirk's eyes get wide and his face turns white as milk as fresh wights begin shambling into the village. "Oh, beards o' me sweet tapdancin' fathers," he groans. He chances a look over his shoulder. Seeing that the last of the villagers is safely aboard, and seeing that Aragos has Sora in hand (quite literally!) and Nemori is booking it, the old dwarf follows suit. He hoots through his fist. "Lulu, come!" he barks, before turning and hauling ass as fast as his tubby dwarven stride can carry him. Hand clapped over his tricorne to keep it from flying aways as he scurries with all haste to the airship and salvation. He throws his thunderbelcher over the rail and latches onto the ladder, scrabbling his way up it and onto the deck. Scooping up his rifle, he wheels around and lifts it, covering the wights as his comrades make good their escape. For her part, Lulu wings up to Dirk's shoulder and alights. She draws herself up tall and skinny, turning her body in profile as she gathers her wings close, narrowing her eyes as she becomes an approximation of an Evil Thing, hisses and all.
The scarabs swarm wildly, attacking the wights. Judging from the hissing and snarls, it's clear the swarms won't be able to hold them off for long, let alone if something serious comes in and starts laying waste. But they're buying you a few precious moments... long enough to escape!
Aragos keeps hauling his ass across the intervening space. It's not easy in his armor, but he's very motivated to get the woman out of here before... Well. The paladin heaves and huffs, but he makes his way to the ship as fast as he possibly can. "If... we... make it... out of here... you owe me a drink!"
Sora tries to make it as easy as possible for her to be carried and just goes along for the ride.
Once the heroes are on board, the captain doesn't waste any time. The ship lifts off, even as you see the wights push through the swarming scarabs by sheer weight of numbers. Amritt, for his part, claps loudly. "Oh, well done, well done! I wish I was young again, to explore and do battle! Gods, that was inspiring!"
But as you lift upwards, you see the wights part, like children, to admit another figure. This one does not have the staggering gait or shambling pace of the wights, but instead moves as fluidly as a dancer, despite his flesh showing the same gaunt, grey hue as the other undead. The hooded, robed form tilts its head up, watching the airship ascend... and it raises its hands deliberately. Placing one fist into the other opened palm, and nodding once. Acknowledging a point gained by the forces of life and light... for now, anyways.
-End